cat child

2022

there was one day i realized

that without my permission, my body had grown

a chest, a pair of thighs,

stitched to a lonely waist.

i watched from behind my eyes,

how this body spoke

how it lived, danced and spun

into a woman whose skin was soft.

when i tried to burn my neck,

it only turned to dust that sailed the air and

withered into my lungs.

my ribs had stretched out,

and grew so far it left my heart behind

to a place i couldn’t reach

and in the hollow space behind those bones,

i hung rope, made a swing

and spent the rest of my days in it.