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

antimatter

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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