You enter like an angry overseer,
lasso your belt around my neck, your
and you choke the / boll weevils/ from my
prideful mouth. Every time, the same
beating, the same predictable sting of
hide on hide, you probing the
hoping to find Drexciya or some other
wet metropolis of the unwilling.
You open my weary /ancestors/
like a spilling wound leaks /molasses/
this isn’t like how I pictured,
some poignant rape, it’s routine,
just more honest about all the shame
my body is a placeholder for.