family

oh, yes, you are a transplant. grafted poorly, get your nutrients. take the rain, take the sun. hang on. tighter. now, flower. (akron family, and you aren't at home. are you yourself? their food, their ways, their water, you have been changed at the cellular level. don't trust yourself.)

sure, from street corners, as a body, you can be sexualized. from café windows, from the interiors of delivery trucks, from over the slick bar. every relationship is reciprocal. as in: are you enough of a predator to find your prey? are you comfortable with being sexualized later? you lean into my body to make me respond to you, don't read that book, your face says. you make a scene. you embarrass yourself. oh, i'm implied, sure, you can hunt me with your bulging, trembling need, with your fear at odds with your pride, you stranger, you death, mirror image, distortion-- i don't know you. caged in the metro like we are caged in teh body. everything rattles forward, and the destinations are marked for convenience. get off where you will. response and escalation are one and the same. a guarded tongue is a silent power. yell at me, call me the name you want me to be. pute is a a dirty word if i'm not your pute, salope is a dirty word when not to your benefit. the eyes of the others are on us. shame yourself. yell louder. say you'll murder me, say you'll ruin the unpossessed body. one meat in exchange for the other. you violate yourself, i am your blame object. objectify me, divide my parts into meat you can conquer, neglect you can kill. i'm not the mother who didn't rock you. i am the mother who didn't rock you. it doesn't matter.

shaved legs, shaved face, we bend to each other, inhabit. and the softest day, when i put the razor to your cheek and drag you slowly down. the softest day, when my edges are wrong, and must be remolded. no you can't have, no you must take. here we are. big fleshy lumps, posturing gladly.