Melissa Eleftherion

THREE OF SWORDS & MIMETIC ECDYSIS

You say it didn’t happen
like that - tears at the

fabric - a rending of
absolutes

Having prepared
myself mentally, I breathe & ask questions

What is your first memory of an odor?
At what age did your walls turn to blood?

You say my body has no memory of its own
Sourbreath pancakes on the motherpeace linoleum
Dark stain of wood grain on your palm

I reflect back your hardship nostalgia
Your worry about microorganisms

You say smell this and tell me if it’s bad
You say I only wanted to protect you