16.


I'd like to think I never split
Into Before and After
Safety and Suppression.
But the sun was a sneering wolf
with the world in its jaws
and inside the box I was sweating
(we both were)
A swarm of locusts shrieked inside my veins
when no was a useless combination of letters
tumbling from chapped lips,
and the bed was a storm at sea.
My voice retreated, screaming
this is not the stuff of celluloid and slumber parties
the walls of my eyelids
streaked bile yellow and purple-black
blood blisters slick with shame.
Time lost its grip
(though he did not)
and through the blinds the clouds curled and tattered
and made no shapes.
The earth itself was ravenous
forcing me down its throat
where insects huddled in the cup of my ear
once claimed by him.
Jagged rocks ground to fill the creases of lips and eyes
and webs between fingers
fervently reshaping.
And in the end I stood
A newborn fawn with trembling sinew
blinking in the glare of a foreign world,
the shadow monolith tracing enmity down my spine.

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