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The Hiss Quarterly Vol. 5 ~ Issue 1 Fourth Annual NC17 Issue Naughty Bits |
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The Freedom of Menstruation A woman anchored to her body is a limping mangled angel just looking for madness if she can get it. Her cunt is a kind of carburetor hell bent on leaping for the fork that cuts her too deeply to dream she swings on a pendulum of marching pain. And for just a moment she doesnt give a shit about all of you. |
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The Effect of Incest on the Brain We are broken By what threatens to devour us The move he made away from the door Toward you made you know He was coming for you And not just in a threatening way In a way that wanted to kill you In a way that wanted to grab you By the neck and work you around So that your back was to him And he could enter you In the way that men enter women Anytime they feel like it And in any manner, Usually horrific. We are split in two By those moments when the earth Turns backwards on itself And it is impossible That anything like this is happening Because after all he is your father, Because after all he is your brother And before he makes his way over To the bed where you have been told To sit still, he kneels in his white Cotton briefs before the little plastic Jesus up on his little plastic cross And he says a prayer and you know He is praying for God to save his soul And to have mercy on him But he still turns around to face you And while hes crossing his chest With father son and holy ghost, He still walks toward you And in your memory, which is just beginning To tear, he walks as slowly as a ghost. | We are forgetful About such things, as this That could not happen not really In the same world where shiny cars Speed down the road And you plant marigolds with your mother In the middle of a golden summer And she says nothing to you about his hands And she says nothing to you about his weapons And when you want to wear a mini skirt She calls you a whore Because somewhere inside of her She knows What you cannot remember And she blames you For being the magnet of their insidious Desire for domination She tells you to put a pinch of brown sugar in the spaghetti sauce and to be quiet at the kitchen table We are damaged In some place we can only read about But never touch We remember to always forget The moments when the earth Opened up and swallowed us whole In the form of his whole enormous hand Held tight over the back of your head In the form of your arms going numb From being pinned down against that ugly Green shag carpet they never did replace Underneath all the graduation portraits Of more brothers and a sister, Every bit as discarded as you. The two of you, thrown to wolves And wearied by the keeping of such lies. |
