The Purest Star by Samantha Martin

silent bluebirds, someone

invisible against the bluest sky,

a ring of primal unhearing:

we, the mothers of dead girls,

reluctant revolutionaries.

i see more blood than any man

know just how my womb

tumble out red -- or, some months, does not.

i boil this unwanted sweetness

now, and i do not fear to set free

a bluebird, a death cry,

the blood of my enemies.

a child, ripped into a thousand pieces

a thousand drops of blood staining --

my child, my only daughter, now

a thousand seeds of starlight, feeds

a thousand reluctant fireweeds.

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Samantha Martin (she/her) is a queer poet from michigan whose work explores relationships, trauma, spirituality, and nature. her poetry can be found in Flora Fiction Literary Magazine and Ink Drinkers Magazine; she contributes reviews to The Poetry Question. she lives with her partner and three cats in jakarta, indonesia. Twitter: @dirtstringdoor