I hissed curses onto her duplicated face
And she looked at my gaping mouth
And learned in detached silence.
Her eyes were the largest I had ever seen
And created and yet I craved to shut them.
I didn’t know that when she was born my grave had been dug.
I recognise my blemishes on her fabricated skin.
I am haunted by the reminiscence of my scent on
Her eyelids. The tongue drenched in tears.
I heard her sing a lullaby to me and I will
Never learn how to fall asleep. Her open arms
Seem like a threat to me. Immovable.
I made her and now I stutter.
I acknowledge her violence and
Lost my own to her.
She crowned herself mistress
And wipes away my tears whilst
I try to sink all of my teeth in my bone marrow.
She knocks against my dried-up cheeks.
Hammering her hymns into me.
And I murmured prayers to shrink me.
She drowns me without putting her hands on my forehead.
She smiles and everybody interprets it as care.
But I see the dagger-tooth pounding the blood out of her lower lip.
I disappear behind my grimaces.
I am buried within her, within myself.
The devil that I pretended to love and
That wants me to pay with my heart and soul.
Bone to bone, wallet to wallet,
Executing steps on tiptoes.
And I remember my tirades that light up in
My daughter’s face.
“Sirenen” by Ferdinand Max Bredt (1860-1921)
Croque-Melpomene 