CancerEileen R. Tabios
The years crumbled as I became who you wanted, and it was believable: a girl prettily pink in a cotton skirt edged in white lace your teeth and fingers transformed into a blanket sliding down my anxious thighs, “prettily pink” as your granite gaze pinned me down on the bed you would share with your new wife. My mouth was the one you wanted to tear on your wedding night. That night as the stars became fugitives you left her as alone as I was, staring at the blue peppered light emitting radioactive waves from my computer screen. When you e-mailed “Hello”– a word as solitary as you (and she) and I, you made me your slave. It did not matter that you did not ask. The black greeting burned against my eyes, curdling my nipples as if they were between your fingers pulling me closer to you as if space still endured, as if life-generating air still flowed, between our bodies. Master, you always let me be so innocent I could offer fearlessly, “Whatever You Want.” You painted shadows beneath my eyes, one of many acts you observed are “not cruel but your right.” There is a cancer growing in a place I cannot identify but suspect is located where I shall die from its intimacy but die without regret as before I shall fall I first shall fly and mate with the Sun.
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