From The Diaries Of A Girl Born In Brothel, Next In Line
From The Diaries Of A Girl Born In Brothel, Next In Line
From The Diaries Of A Girl Born In Brothel, Next in line
I am next in line
Wrapping the age nine
Around my chest—
Bracing to stitch blisters
Between my thighs, twigs
Bathed in kerosene
More than once, maybe
Twice? Or is it
His scalding machismo
Thick tickling slime
Gushing through the nozzle?
I do not know.
I am only nine and need
Not know but go
With it and fly my kite,
Prick-peel the pus
And wiggle my toes
When the pain grows,
Pretend my skirt is
A little too tight,
And chomp on my nails
When I can't scream at night
But I won't ask why
I am next in line
Sipping mama's stink,
Scooping lather off her
Skin so supple so sore
Biting into the pillow,
And woo the gore
Of nuzzling a swarm of cells
Of licking a door!
That cracker lit and charred--
I must be, and thrust my body
Into the warm troughs
Left behind, from a season's grind
Of her bed bound pelvis.
So I slide in a petticoat
And blouse, pluck all the hooks out
And tug hard at the seams.
Is this really what it means
To be a woman—
Fork flipping on a plate?
I am now a woman it seems,
Scribble, Scratch, Replace.
I am woman. I am a sl-u--ate !
Am I a goddess already?
Teal-tinctured dough crucified,
Wide-eyed, plastered on a sheet?
Gargoyles come, they come
Groveling to my feet
And go gratified and come again
I listen, I act, I grant.
For it's the law in the playpen
Of chronic sinners—so undivine!
I age in the dark, scrunching
In space, leaping in time
I may have gained another nine.
The halo is gone.The child is dead.
The goblin eyes have multiplied.
I've gagged; I've bled.
And the feast is on
Till the break of dawn.
Then the zipping unzipping
Greet my ear.
Alas, do I belong here?
I am nine—so what?
I do not understand dreams.
I sack them in my bladder and hiss.
They plop in the sewer and die.
And yet I wish, I wish if I
Were a storm of life
Lapping free—like Nature
Born anew—her womb and will
Fused in one tale, a whole,
Not once infringed,
Not once incised. A full breadth
Of being. Not crumbs flecked
On Forceps and pipes.