I painted myself without hands and feet
because my hands were not my own
and I couldn’t run away
*
my mother became a better mother
once she stopped being a wife
my father never let his daughters forget that
he needed a wife
this need never left our four walls
but we would
eventually
*
I observed that sex poured out of a tortured existence
and love was an inexistent light
that hadn’t touched the horizon
*
I was born with invisible laurels
because one body had survived another
one body had endured another’s lovemaking
*
for men sex was in no need of language
sex was action
and women wouldn’t even mention the word
as if in fear of a conjuring
the monster showing up in the room
upon evocation
rendering them insubstantial
*
women being chased out of their bodies
men taking up the whole room
*
emptiness hardened their bodies
his presence implied her absence
and she became a body that let him through
*
I roamed from war zone to war zone
and as I tried to see the best in you
you took advantage
and stayed who you always had been
Croque-Melpomene 