they/them: a poetry anthology

body

I have lashed you,
streaking you with blood and ribs. I have attached
drains to your stomach, your throat, your plate. I have made you
beg, and I have not listened.

I have punished you
for my defects. Yours?
I dream of the day I can mutilate you. In my utopias,
I am – you are – scarred.

I have burned you,
cursed you, defiled you. A temple?
Pah. To which gods? Whose gods?
Would womanly Dionysus bless me in his revelry
or shapeshifter Loki help me cast you away?

I have twisted you,
your ribs, your ankles, your shoulders. Pushed you to limits
on my terms, not yours; shredded your lungs; sucked and emptied
you of fluid. I have bowed
your back. Bound
your chest. Broken
your being.

I have shredded you.
In whose name? My own? Am I wretched enough
to do it in yours?
I have used you. Discarded you. Hated you
for my own faults.
I'll try to do better. I'll try
to be something else.