she said...
"You think that I don’t break? A Russian doll maybe? something for you to pet? You don’t know anything about me. I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU! What year did your mother die? 1968. What’s your favorite fruit? oranges. What keeps you up at night? the smell of loneliness and the flutter of a moth. What year did my mother die? What do I take for granted? Who makes me shiver? How long is my breath? Oh, if it could be that simple…if you could make me into an acrostich…I….It’s fleshy you know, the inside of someone’s sex. the inside of mine. it reeks, it’s acrid. It’s dead X. Perfume me. Perfume me with sweet sweet oranges and sweet sweet tea. And don’t you dare say that referencing Stein makes me a lesbian. It’s not my fault that you cant write."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment