Dear Murderer—
       

I am so small here beneath this bed. Beneath this dead silence. Beneath this science book. So small you have to get down on all fours. Down on the floors and scooch around just a little to find me. Find me scooching just a little further back. Knife in my hand, pen in my hand, ready to strike. Ready to write you a love letter in my sweat and blood right here beneath this bed. Where I dream about sex but not about sex really. But more about being small enough to blend into the dust ruffle that burns black with my breath.

Tweet

Copyright © 2021 Kristy Bowen All rights reserved
from sex & violence
Black Lawrence Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission