what did the gorge look like?
thrashing water,
boulders and pebbles smooth,
leaves rustling under the street lamps?
were there monsters in the waters?
sirens wailing
singing
beckoning you closer
did they taunt you, mock you, remind you
the fingers that played the violin and danced along the string
go so deep
search in caverns
dig for lackluster gold
and come out with blood under the nails
and come out with blood under the nails
how did the officers hold you?
pull you?
cradle you?
talk sweet nothings
coax you
smooth your hair over and wipe your tears
love, they cry,
you are deserving
life, they whisper,
is yours to keep
(but what about your fingers? where did those stains come from?
were they around her neck
crushing her throat until no words came out?)
did you see me as you leapt?
was i smiling or
crying or
laughing or –
was i squirming under you
pleading with you
covering my body so you couldn’t soil it again
bloody handprints
fingers and lips open and waiting to devour
any last shreds of dignity
as you possess my skin and bones
consume them
until they are no longer mine
or did you sit in your room
dream this all up
shape and mold it with your hands
lathered it with guilt
to spoon-feed to me like the candy hearts
you crushed under your toes on the ugly musty carpet of your apartment
so you could always be the hero,
the one who strings the bow, arrows hitting the axe shafts
one
by
one
until my hand is yours
(again)
in sickness and in health
(but you filled my lungs with smoke)
for better or for worse
(but you control the puppet strings, watch me dance, sing you to sleep,
walk and walk and walk until i reach the survivors’ office)
do you see me now?
i push that hand away
(and all the fingers, chipped nails, scraps of my insides)
over the gorge
so you reap what you sow
and the officers let you fall and say
go home, odysseus