death by paper cut

lily's pronounced love

ma says boys are like flies,
come back in the flesh of summer
they wait and wait and wait
until they've had something sweet but dirty
like the wound of a girl or a woman or a lady

she asks me if i know how boys look at me
if i'm aware of the brisk glance over my tongue
bared open mouth, teeth like a rottweiler in heat
do they hover when they're next to me?
sometimes i wonder if my mother is the root of my fear.
how, sometimes when i cross the street
i make sure no ones following me

locked doors and bobby-pins
how he touched as if i was a girl from a victorian painting
silent.
still.
cold.
you're a radiator, yet i'm still shaking
unroot me, devour me, i am but a hymn with its pages ripped out and song stuck in the back of my throat
you don't know fear until you can't let the scream out
you don't know fear until your eyes are rolling in circles with the ceiling fan.

i haven't been a godly girl since my dad spoon fed me religion on a platter, five years old and i couldn't breathe.
and now, i am on my back. clenching my eyes, barely limp into the bloody carpet. praying this isn't hell. thinking, maybe i deserve it. that's what you did to me. that's what men do to me.

so, i am sorry to my next lover. when i smoke a little too much or wake you up to the sound of me choking on my screams. and, i'm sorry that my love can't ever grow as full as it used to be. please ease up on me.