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Sex used to happen in the afternoon

during that in between time

when the people I trusted would leave

abandoning me to the whims

of a man past his prime

well done meat dangling on brittle bone

I recall he used to draw pictures

of possibilities that I understood

but could not explain

watching as he substituted

human parts for toys

objects that grew in his hands

head jerking back mouth slack

drowning in the heaviness of the afternoon

A baptism of silence kept us joint

reflected years later

in the danger of my eyes

the pulse of my weapon

in the verbal command

Shut your mouth, or I’ll hurt you

as our need scrapes

against the skin of strangers

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