Monday, 2 May 2016

Feeling Helpless Safely

I make my own safe space, build my own panic room
with smoke and the gap between mirrors
either end of my bed. A Mobius Cordon:
closed, infinite. I fill its air with the words

I imagine you whispering: the way your American voice
gives words like cunt a different, harsher meaning,
fingers tracing my tits as I picture your fists,
I relinquish hypervigilance, relish

this sense of safety that comes
from knowing just who’s going to hurt me.
Slip into sleep by feeling helpless,

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