and you’d said if you ever saw the guy
who raped me you’d beat him to death.
your bones so sharp on my hips, I don’t
have a word to describe this besides
a puncturing. give me a little time and
the sounds might come out right— my
moans will sound less like no’s, my
breaths less like screams. mosquitos
suspended in mid-air above me, not sure
if they should bite or call for help. when
you finally notice I’m sobbing, you stroke
the side of my cheek with your thumb.
put your dick in my hand, lean back, and
relax. it’s funny, how you said if you ever saw
my rapist you’d beat him to death.in this
stillness, this pitch black, not a heartbeat
around for miles— you look just like him.
Wanda Deglane is a night-blooming desert flower from Arizona. She is the daughter of Peruvian immigrants and attends Arizona State University. Her poetry has been published or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Glass Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, and Yes Poetry, among other lovely places. Wanda is the author of Rainlily (2018), Lady Saturn (Rhythm & Bones, 2019), Venus in Bloom (Porkbelly Press, 2019), and Bittersweet (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2019).