Fault Lines

To My Mother

Momma he beats me.

What do you want for dinner?

Leftovers sound fine.

 

To My Rapist

Bruises are bone deep,

Your name is burned on my skin,

But this body’s mine.

 

To My Lover Abroad

Tell me you love me.

Remember the ferry ride?

I sent a postcard.

 

À mon ex copine

Your life is noir.

Vogue cigarettes for breakfast,

You’ll never be French.

 

To My Younger Self

Tectonic tensions. 

Every relationship quakes.

I run for shelter.

   

This poem is about: 
Me

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