creatura | poetry

I look at the food you provide with ongoing screams

I put it in my body

and I make myself guilty

you owe me


after school

I walk through the supermarket

with two trolleys

for two different households

both broken

and a calculator

a budget and a threat

you owe me


divorced, barely alone, letting things die slowly

you took dolls with a pulse to bed

meat in your arms, meat against your muscles expanding

and she fell asleep with a man who thought that he never went too far

you owe me


I came home, I had done what I had wanted to do

and you vandalised what belonged to me

without showing your face you poisoned me with shame

because my body was a body that you had created

you owe me


where were you when he took from me

what the world had taken from him

where were you when he taught me

how to read his body, serve his gluttony

where were you when he pulled me in

when he died and I could not speak

you owe me


a grown man’s hand on a girl’s throat

I am everything they discard

I am hidden, I store breath somewhere in my body

I will take care of myself later

these gentle words hurt, these whispered instructions

the guiding hand, the dead soul insisting, out of his mouth

where were you when he was the one enjoying my childhood

you owe me


I sought what he had shown me in people my age

and I felt so wise, so experienced for my age

I had been part of a secret world that everybody denied

my hands were not mine, he held them for me

I inhale his breaths that overwhelm me

and he stores himself in my body

this is love, child, this is happiness, child

you owe me


I grow into a secret that must not speak

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2023 | Instagram: croque_melpomene

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