Veins; Brute

Matthew Corsi



-After Reading “Cut” by Sylvia Plath



Canals full of heavy life-

My own.


I become witness

To final transition.

From depth in blue

To red in hue.


Rower in dark

Linear marks,

Skin lay open as a hinge.

Rome’s beat quickens.


Velvet seeps

Allowing oxygen to reek

Of ironed tinge.


The sting awakens me.

My mind over stasis

Time seems due.


Dear God!

I’m through.

I’ve come back to you.






There is a brute in you

A brute lies inside me too.

I enjoyed getting struck

From your massed fist.


Hearing my bones separate and break

Blood fracking and snapping

The structure within.


Whimpering is for women!

Hold in those feelings and rage

So, one day

You can transfer it down the line.


Men don’t cry.

Besides the little ones

Who have to stare up in disbelief

As their brute of a father weeps.





Matthew Corsi is a student attending Southern New Hampshire University. He is currently in pursuit of a degree in Creative Writing with a concentration in poetry. He lives in Seattle, Washington. He loves the rain.