Song of the Daughter

By Ayana Bhattacharya

o daughter,

sole heir to your mother's rage and father's breaking bones
this lie has stuck itself in your throat like / a poison adam's apple

milk teeth are not to bite into the intruder
cauterise his injuries with / your junior year cigarette lighter

remnants of a broken suicide pact lay around in your room
the butcher mentioned you'd changed / he's never seen you this tall

the authorities won't care as long as you
stow away your skeletons / till halloween at least

it's all in the making of a funeral
you were promising / turned promiscuous

now, a paint splattered poet who can't get off without faking or fading
bite your tongue to taste metal / a vending machine quarter

judgement day awaits,
& god knows / a girl is its worst victim

watch from the gurney
how everything blurs / into a supercut

leave the wound as is,
let the doctor prescribe remedies / you'll never trust another man

all the dirty words in the world
and want seems to be your favourite / you've had too much to drink anyway

the morning after spent in a haze
never knowing / always doing.


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