My Word

Strangers ate my cunt,
asking a thousand questions as to its use,
the material of which it was made.

I screamed.
How eagerly, how intently their heads bent down, 
eyes fixed upon the strange lips.

I had in my possession 
a word.

A hideous image: one man, lewd hands,
his face covered with feathers, his serpentine form.

My word.

A rough demand.

I told them it was a weapon,
a fierce death.

Passed from one to the other.
God—God—

and again.

Erasure poetry is created by starting with an existing text and erasing bits in such a way that the words left in place take on new shapes and meanings. For the 1st Annual Geist Erasure Poetry Contest, we posted an excerpt from Roughing It in the Bush by Susanna Moodie, a memoir written in 1852.