what kind of nerve
is tickled by
breaking a body
not a fistful of years to this Earth.
Is it that
the only thing capable of
bringing your blood to your skin
was breaking the vessels in mine
Or was it more
to do with the fragment of a
person you married
gutted
skinned
upholstered
stuffed with Bible verses and
fixed upon a laundry horse
and called a wife? The sex
must have been painful
for the both of you
when you realized
the only words dribbling out of the hole in its face
were the same
drops of rhetoric
you spat into it.
You told me last year
that I was not a person,
that I am an appendage belonging to you.
I want to feel
there was nothing more than
simple, respectable, hate
in being dragged to my feet by a wrist until it bruised
when legs could not endure the blows back then, but
I am more certain in every passing year
that it was your way
to masturbate
without offending Jesus.
