By Samantha Renn
in sincerity she screams
blessed mother, where were you
when that boy cut me,
when that boy tied me to the pain he was inflicting
in the fear she cowered and stayed
sword’s edge; she’s associated meanings
and those bindings are razor wire,
but she never stays still
she feels him everywhere now,
the memories bite, wolves with steak-knife teeth
shattering their snarls into fragments of
metallic lies. . .
she is the lie.
She is the harbor
that invites with sweet melodies
seeping from the breasts of sirens,
the harbor that ensures all good sailors
will kiss the silty bottom of her anguish
and find the poison that the pirates left for them.