You Taught Me How to Make Wine Bottles Cry (Inspired by Louise Bourgeois' Cells)

I swallow his words
like small spiders
in my sleep,
awake pinned
by his arms,
spine twisted
in his palms
until I prickle,
thistled.

Our children
are glass bottles
we hang
from the ceiling,
untie at night
and roll
across the carpet
like clicking marbles.