Shame and shoulders, turned inward
My breast burns, as my face
Reddens, my eyes prickle soft.
My tears slake the thirst of the hunter
Those who track me these millions
And millions of years. See, see
How they crest the banks of pain
How with wild yelps their hands seize
And grasp me. The shame
Overcomes love, overcomes me
And I am not me, still yet I soar
Away from this thing of me, this broken flesh
This thing of me which huddles and cries
Cowers and whines. Under their invited hours
Of blows and taunts, the names haunt
My flesh, for I am slut, whore, all things
You put beyond your doors.
But in that cold I grow so old
That yet I rise again. These names are not mine
I rise and rise, and my shame and shoulders
Turn inward and with ragged breath on frozen air
I lie slumped upon the concrete floor.