“Anonymous was a womxn”
-Uncivil
we force the blossom open
dissect the hips and expose the stamen and pistil.
Soft and flexible strands with small yellow tips
Cut and crushed beneath perfect precision.
Stems cut at an angelic angle absorb the sugared nothing of water in a vase
Saving face, taking insufficient space, keeping pace, ladies in waste.
the peeled
you say tomato,
the mashed
you say potato,
and it all sounds like
the clink of teacup on saucer on tile until
the tiny muscles in my hands,
deprived of oxygen and hope,
suddenly fail
and porcelain no longer holds porcelain::: the white tiles so different from my flesh: hard and cold
do not gently welcome the ground down bones suspended in stone
rather, they hit back, they hold their own against the feminine wiles and find the separations too easily
shattered sounds and splayed on floors
moments amidst dust, ash, tiny hairs and crumbles
so small a dog denies they exist.
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