A terror veiled her eyes.

She didn’t know that it was visible to the world.

Maybe she didn’t care.

It was something that could not be hidden.


They sang her song to her.

The unwholesome tune of horrors.

The edge of a cliff, the airy hand, and downward turbulence.

Morgane, don’t listen to how they play you.


She hammered into her own belly.

Everything became too heavy.

Cantankerous air couldn’t find its way out of her blood.

The poison inward-turned.


Father, listen to me.

Mother, look at me.

9 generations in my body.

I had felt it all before.

Our ever-evading downfall,

The bruises weighing our hearts down,

The smiles that ignite death,

The womb that mummifies the child.


“Les ombres de Francesca da Rimini et de Paolo Malatesta apparaissent à Dante et à Virgile” by Ary Scheffer (1795-1858)


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