We stayed where we were.
Mending our own slit throats,
coaxing the flesh back,
independent of your hollow banter.
The corners of your mouths were stretched
and met at the back of your skull
until the enthusiasm spilled from your lips
and onto the ground you suddenly claimed as your own.
You forced passed your prophylactic impulses to inhale our air,
fingers pawing your pages,
screeching your wide-eyed dogma.
We were raped before you came here.
Our wombs already having been wiped clean
of the inbred, intergenerational young they once held.
We stuck to the darkened corners of the buildings we used to play in.
You cut the lights and pasted your papers onto the exit signs.
The buildup of blood had been cleaned from beneath our nails,
and the tress of tissue and muscle keeping our necks together had begun to thicken.
But you forced your pages into our throats,
ripping apart what little had been restored.
And you taught us just how valuable those pages become
when suffused with such damaged blood of the conquered.
You swear you were smiling, but all we saw was teeth.
Then you stuffed them between our legs to fill us with your god.
And we learned how deeply he could move within us.
Author notes
I beseech you, do not leave feedback if you're angry and think I'm just bashing god, because you obviously didn't understand the poem and should probably just move onto something else.
A contest entry
- I didn't know I needed to escape. by Kathryn Bowden.
1000 points, ended May 21, 2008, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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wow! really powerful. Thank you for entering
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This was so amazing powerful that you have left me practically speechless.
I honestly don't know what to say.
I'm left with chills and a gut wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach... but, in a good way.
I don't know how to explain how I feel about this.
An amazing poem! -
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Thank you very much! There's nothing like a speechless reader to brighten your day
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