Poets in Motion
Poets in Motion

When I Was Thirteen


When I Was Thirteen

When I was thirteen, perhaps

You lay down upon me

Saw the stretching growth, curvature of my stomach

And named the skin, fat

Tracing the score of my breasts,

dainty floral fabric like a drifting pollen on your hairless chest

What I was before this, vague and unformed; bacteria strands

drifting to suck from some portioned love

When our blood almost mingles, it is oil and water

Viciously stirring the mixture, I have taken over the experiment

and wear its proof on my waiting naked outline

Appetites are lost and gained, my bones are a tumour

and their filthy cells seep into the brain, chewing and spitting-

beg for the congealed desire

years after, I am pavlovian pain

I cradle and comfort your own with my mothering chest

suckle from the sour substance, some permeable glue to hold together that which is broken

as I crack under our ungodly synthesis-my unkind words that remain unspoken

Watch how my stomach rolls and shakes,

growing and shrinking into our unmakeable ends

of all the things you could take

that which was real

and that which is fake

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Catherine Hill
Catherine Hill
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Catherine Hill
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