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To begin, I say nothing. I disrobe
as sullen as a monk to the cool air.
I kneel on a pillow with calm, arms
resting on thighs. Worship comes

easy. I clean the bathroom. The master
wants to teach me the missing part
of myself. He presses his sour wedge
into my throat until he is the you

of this poem. Friend, I wish you nothing
but well. I train my mind to never be
exceptional. My body does not sleep.
It aches like a father pressed against

a window watching the daughter step
into a stranger’s car. I train my mind
to tell you this. The corset materials
up my ribs, my only protection mimes

my shape. I am an incomplete gesture.
I kneel and wait. You will come into 
the room as you came into yourself,
a soundless baron. What would you 

have me do? So many girls live in
the clasp of my garments. They keep the
phantom in tact. A bell goes off and you
enter. Come. Try your best to hurt me.

2 thoughts on “Submissive

  1. Not sure how I’m gonna make it through the month you keep knocking me out like this

    1. <3

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