III
Girl and her mirror
stranger staring back,
the disowned
weaker twin.
She lashes me
until my chest wall
is contracted
too tightly to lift her
bleeding shoulder.
The girl with the whip
does not recognize
my weltered back.
IV
She hates my body for new
scars I cannot remember
receiving.
How dare my
body by existing
defy her.
In obligation
I take up
the whip.
Cauldron Anthology
45