[Image Description: Wilted pink roses, with a touch of brown on the edges, lay flat on a marble background with water stains]
Casey Elizabeth Newbegin’s poem’s quietly contemplate the surrounding world of patriarchy and its influences on our bodies
Read Morereal women are polished opals.
i am buried coal.
Zeus’s boys are in a rage.
Advantages not met with advancements
Turn their poetry to slander;
Galatea has turned to stone again.
You are a thief of my flesh; you split me like plum leaves
too early in the spring. Disrobed of what protects me;
one silver necklace undone, cotton to the floor.
Before you I am bare.
When I met your bare skin with mine, innocently enough
- hands in passing, an arm brushing by -
the roar of my heart didn’t reach your ears.
I didn’t hear the beat of your footsteps hesitate outside my door,
the silence a question to which I did not answer
yes.
Midnights, you occasionally lingered
in my kitchen,
flicking cigarette ash in my sink
and sipping champagne
from my last plastic cup.
at 3 am love exists within self-inflicted fingerprints
all over your lonely mounds of subsaharan sugar cane
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