paisley print black lace didn’t save her face
from flesh gnawing battery acid
that leaves knotted scar knitted
pink-armor
or stop her from walking into rooms filled
with knowledge and dark haired boys.
Now 8-year-old fingers brush brail,
bled out like the red currant all acid splashing men
ride from a woman’s womb
slick mucus spit for breath
your flesh is my flesh
your blood pumps in beat
with mine.
do not poison your Eden.
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