What does it matter if words parade around my lips
Stunningly silent, you run amiss
My teeth sprout in tidy rows they cannot articulate eccentricities
Tongues are for language as the heart is meant to beat
Beat and berate me I will stay here
Under the tidal wave of your womb I swim silent
That wasn’t me
How could it, except as a mother you need to be violent
What then, who am I to test you in your brevity
Conclusions are weak, and I am lost to her
Every night the same, dark, envy, and even now I lounge in that antiquity
I called her then, “monster”.
The name stuck.
I am victim to no one.