we weren’t dragged here
we lit the funeral pyre
banished ourselves
choosing to live in an iron box
walls red-hot
pig iron
but with one cool corner
that I give to you
you sit on a perch
naked
safe.
and you still laugh
we still have good years
as I lean over you
you can’t see beyond
I burn my hands and arms
and my shoulders
but you still laugh
its too late when you realize
men make decisions
not good or bad
just right or left
some women feign
and some follow.
you give birth in the box
I cover your ears
so you don’t hear
the baby crying
more years fade
and tears grow into your laughter
I lose an arm
and you can’t remember
how we got here.
one day
you offer me the perch
and I refuse
because you gave everything
while we were living.

-