by Arika Elizenberry
Rememory
Maybe I was 8
or maybe 9.
My memory is
fuzzy like the buzzing
TV in my aunt's bedroom.
Rememory shows
my chest rising
and falling,
his mouth on my belly,
his dark figure
burying my voice
between the springs.
Buzz...
Buzz...
Buzz..
Ice Chips
you say
you didn't
catch his name
or remember
why your girls
left you at the hotel
bar alone
but you remember
funny tastin'
ice chips
and wakin' up
in a room
with your dress
ripped
overhead
body hot
they say you
lied when you
couldn't meet
with them
that mornin'
that's 'cause
your body
hadn't forgotten
last night's
nightmare
Not Your Mistress, Not Your Seductress
she was never your seductress
swishing her hips up
and down the halls vying
for your wayward eyes
and stray hands as she
filled the rooms with fresh
linens and sheets
was never your mistress
bent over in the cellar
scanning your favorite
brandy wet waiting
panting in nothing
but a corset
was never your jezebel
when you forced her 13
year old body to sleep
in the bed with you
lest she favored stripes
was never your lover
when you rewarded her
with a hog and new dress
for Christmas after selling
her - your blood soaked
baby on the block
for the tenth time
was never your seductress
mistress concubine paramour
lover whore harlot coquette jezebel
your bedwench
you were her master abuser
killer manipulator tormentor
violator trafficker captor offender
her rapist
she was your victim
but not your only one