einmündig | a poem

you consist of memories



her worn-out fading legs

wait for you in a slaughterhouse



the world rests in her skin

her cracking knees hold in the pain


and she whispers to herself in disbelief

I am a child, in this puddle, I am still a child


I’d rather you left me here

the accumulated puddle


my mother’s body is six years old


silence conceals a parallel world

vineyards feel like a home that tried to suffocate me

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2022 | Instagram: @melpomenepaintings


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