Yes (No)

“say yes if you love me”

he can make the softest whisper tear through a pre-pubescent body like a rusty, serated blade carving through soft tissue paper.

“say yes so it feels good”

he doesn’t say this in so many words. i said it to myself in hopes of agreeing, in want of power where there was none.

“say yes for your salvation”

he speaks no more, head between your legs, two skinny branches of little girl split wide open for the domineering man splayed out on the bed in front. he manages to be young without ever having been a child, he loves to play games only he can win.

you nod your head yes, while, bye the byes, the slack-jawed imprints of his mouth, open and close, littered on your lips and thighs, cry,

howl: No

across time, the present shakes with the reverbrations of a swallowed scream. you died long before agreeing to lay back on the table, eyes wide shut for the vulture high on your size.

was she you? you wonder, tonight, at a small family’s party, if you may eat your own remains. wide awake, you see the familar raven-plumed body and craned neck circle overhead in the distance, you ask yourself why small, scarred teeth whisper yes, no.