[Issue 2019.51]

‘Daughter’, Eva Papasoulioti

Illustration © 2019 Cécile Matthey

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My women have the earth
                  in their womb.

On her birth, she will sign
a contract for her oceans
and ley lines.

When she’s barely of a thousand dawns
she will be given for marriage
her value measured in coal,
olive trees and light-years.

She will be made to prove her innocence
in silent thunderstorms and
bloody sheets.

My women will tell her
the truth is made to be stardust
the woods are meant to be ashes.

In the end, it will remain nothing but
a geography of broken galaxies
that warp her stretchmarks into embers.

When my women remember their lost future,
they will cut her umbilical cord
                        with their teeth
and hand her the sun
to torch her way to owning herself.

Maybe the blaze will fracture her more
                              turn them into eternal midnight
but she will fight now,
      a solar storm breathing resistance,
      an end in beginning.

© 2019 Eva Papasoulioti

[Issue 2019.51]

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