Metamorphoses

CLAIRE WOLTERS / THE TEMPLE NEWS

Content warning: This story includes details of sexual assault that might be upsetting to some readers.

I crawl home to her,

snake skin over whispers

in the dark. Between folds of yellow, there’s a

                                                                                                                        long

smile, not quite a caress,

a sharp arrow defining the unnatural arches she made and all

tucked in beneath the moon — pellucid.

Too soon.

Too soon.

I have shed over his footprints, marked the earth in blood.

We hang on the edge,

her eyes clouded from the heat of a baited breath;

she                                   strains

for ironic silence on the sheets,

still.

His humidity floats above. Listen.

I have come to tell you,

I have come to tell you,

                              from the gods,

                              from the dove,

                              from the lamb,

I have come in a dying whisper

to say, that the very rocks

cra   

       cked, in rage.

Brittany Whelan
Brittany can be reached at brittany.whelan@temple.edu. Follow The Temple News @TheTempleNews.

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