sistersmoke | screaming/daydreaming | the tyrant’s daughters | a poem outside of the frame

I grew old and desperate

watching women stare into their own void

sink into it, the absence of themselves

within their skin

the presence of foreign matter


with a smile on its face


the dead never made it out of our four walls

grief cramped across the windows

the wind brought back their odour


she sits at the kitchen table

and begs her body to move


he performs for her

screams amongst his children

hollers his lungs out at night

and asks her, perplexed

what are you talking about


my sister and I

dug one another out of the collective grave

stuck our heads out for a while

to smoke

and laugh at what we can’t escape just yet

a painting by Nicolaas van der Waay (1855–1936)

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