coincide with the rapping of knuckles against the entrance of her future
in both senses of the word
waiting to part her seas, in apartment B
I was nine when my mother sold me, for her addiction,
been latched to you ever since
encrusted with semen, my lips touched ice cream for the first time,
reward for being a good girl
thank you, for showing me that my thighs could bring more than piss
we ate well
when rich gentleman came looking for youth
you didn't like when the boys started to notice me,
thought my DD breasts were too swollen,
for my own good,
tried to beat them back into me
I loved you like November,
when tricks were low,
because men promised their wives they'd
be home for dinner,
their children, for construction paper palm turkeys
we were good then,
smoking our troubles in,
hailing our high on that dirty mattress, on the floor
burgundy stains from miscarriage three and four
when can i have your child?
you're the only family I got
why can't we multiply?
you laughed, when I said this
told me, "Them neighborhood boys gon' knock you up, soon enough."
I could hear you crooning inside other woman,
from the other room,
orgasming your pimp name
I won't call you anything else
I need you to remember who you once were
a firm grasp
the first in class
You are no one's molestation
behind the pulpit
you are no faux hallelujah
when we are so messed up
so gone that we forget who we are
we are good to each other
and you say stupid things like,
"I love you"
"I wasn't always this way"
These are the words I remember,
when you are pillaging through me,
like I stole something from you
Raw and ripped
Leaving me stumbling
through this desert we call home
to buy your cigarettes
and as I rub my legs together,
blotting the blood that drips there
I remember, I was once only worth that...
But now I've got you.