my body is a place of worship
regularly desecrated,
a basket of ripe fruit
circled by the starving,
a lamb in the woods
smelled by the wolves,
built to sacrifice
to eat
to devour
until there is nothing left but bones
lay me on the altar as abraham did to isaac
tell me this is gods work
that the knife you brought is heavy with the desires of your creator
who is this to satisfy?
is your blood hot as you pray
would you look in my eyes, or at the sky
when the moment arrives,
who is to blame?
my father, on earth
my father, in heaven
my lover,
hands around my throat
so he may control my life and death
and play both
neither answer my cries
nor feed me when hungry
but i must be grateful
because they love me so much
that they’ll punish my sins
and correct my foolish mistakes
as though they are an extension of their own
as i am an extension of them
grateful even in death for their guidance
for the decisions they make for me
so my brain does not become filled with thoughts unbecoming
i am the perfect daughter
i am the perfect lover
i sacrifice myself willingly
i lay myself on the altar
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