Alien Queens Wrestling with the Fruit

Rosebud Ben-Oni

Blessed be the ones who’ve wronged me. Bless their ultraluxe warbucks & blessed blood riding shotgun, a woman's place, they stain upon me, is thoracic accident & front row blood in star dust, blessed halo of hit

-&-hyperspace, what is it to bleed me but for my labors, rallying on soft

& squealing forest floor, how blessed those who climb & reach the last hatchling in debris, for my kind builds no nest & there is no returning a blessing, wherein blessed bees bind every flower to resinjawed trees, where once I was sharp & so unsuspecting, a most natural blessing for leaf-cutters to lose their wings & farm fungi :: wage wars :: take captives, how blessed the no name I will no longer partake when all other priorities are rescinded & my only chances were replaced with sympathies what now but to unleash nature of nothing, most absolute instinct, against those who believe they’d shed my blood from the wings o bless these fools who glided into red slit as kismet, when I am the pilot & hurl them from cockpit

Blessed be the ground they hit. Bless the splat & shattering.

Bless my meta morass they’d slash-and burn.

Bless the orchids that awaken with bloodletting & bless you, my only worthy enemy who too will not bend under that clunker they misnamed :: Mother :: who could not invent you or me so don’t back down, you blessed bitch, blessed alien mother queen, you’re my refusal to seed, my nuclear winter of radioactivity, our rippling exoskeletons that unbless gently o blessed be you & me, the impish & the sneak, their bodies blowing out of airlock into deep :: space :: cavity who if we wanted to we would

:: bless them again :: with acid cocoon bless them straight through, whimpers of fleshings that smother & gloom, burst in chest-flowered doom