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I have no vaginal teeth to castrate you.
No wish to turn you into stone.
I only want you to feel the sting of
shame for placing
your hands on my body.
Pulling my shoulders like oars
on a rough sea. Why did you think I was
your vessel to jibe & tack at will?
Did driving me give a kind of strength
your body alone could not?
Were you sore for days after forcing
your way?
Did you ache from black bruises
Did my scratches burn your chest?
Your hair? Is it a knot of hissing snakes
coiling around your neck?
And your eyes. Are they drill holes where
the living become gray dust?
copyright 2019
Chella
Courington |
