oh, the cheek.

I spent years trying
to break my bones in small places,
small enough to bend into the mold given
by sour eyed mice, scratching at the walls.
Trying to reach the debris from the mouths
of fat white men in slick lined suits.

And then i fell in love with cats
so hard that i ached for the claws and the teeth:
the ability to say no. Set my own boundaries and
kept the strange hands away from my spine
with a screeching hiss.
Don’t you like me like this?

All a game to be played
to the punchline, teeth ground fine
into sharp ivory nubs good for slicing
mice in half, the tendons stretched ankle to calve –
I’d eat you whole, but I’ve gone off meat.
Instead i’ll hang your body from a spire
for the world to see.


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