Do you feel it? This is the reckoning. This is colouring everything red.

Eighteen was soft like whipped candy

Eighteen was ripe enough to bite right through

When Summer past gently, the last apple dropped

And the rotting began.

And don’t you like the soft ones?

When you cut it in half, the face of Eve in the core.

Don’t you know what happened to Eve?

You, the crematorium that singed the lungs. I haven’t taken a deep breath since;

When the fire started, my favourite white sheets burned first.

Split like the singed walls of the womb

me, the colonies.

What did you leave inside of me, behind the placental wall of grief?

Other than this desire to eat myself alive,

To feel this grisly day between the teeth and


Where do you see yourself in my body?

Does guilt have a placemat at the dinner table? Does it follow you into bed?

I want to know of shame outside of myself.

I want to know the last time you looked in the mirror

and saw only your face. Not massacre.

For you, today, I am sure.

For me, it is the reflection.

Do you feel it?

Do you feel it?

It burns. It burns just like that day.

But burning is a part of me now, grown into the body like bone.

And the knife is silent as the year’s redemptive whip

One day you will turn around and

It will not ask.

Do you feel it? Do you feel it? Do you feel it?