Poesy #2

Warning: contains violent language and references to sex of ambiguous consent.

If I lock my arms
I can remember the moment
the slam of the door
turned into your knife.

If I hold my breath I remember
how the guts spilled from the wound
I wanted to carve between you and me,
and how you wound them into
a ladder to catch me — to lower my unbound pride —

all right then –
all right –
and I’ll be still –
and I will be veiled by an empty room –

with the skin and sinew of the empty room
you tied my tongue
and left me lying –
knotted and through my teeth –
in your arrogance you bound me
in the blood of a vacant apartment
mewling and cowed to your whim.


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