
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