Erin Goss
breech of personal autonomy no. 2
give me a reason why you play god
fold yourself between stained sheets
translating terror through eyes until they tire.
blanket themselves in flesh.
speak!
become your creation:
mrs. misanthrope lies next to you.
give me a reason why she sleeps
her body bare, not mine.
she, tethered jerky on bitch bones.
me, a specter of juice and meat
rotting in the box beside.
salvation splices red on porcelain
retribution tainted by dead breath.
after i die,
take a walk down a dark lane
allow my dybbuk to penetrate you
to see your god manifested as mine.