September 1st by Valentine Cusin

Valentine Cusin

Valentine is a French and Italian poet currently based in the UK as a student. Writing in her  third language, she aims to take her works further out into the world in the hope that they  help people the same way poetry has helped her, transcending through language and culture. 

September 1st

he pushes and he pushes and he

pushes 

until he has me fully  

i am a dog standing on its hind legs 

his hand presses my  

windpipe 

i am a red garden hose 

i count the dots 

before my eyes like i used to  

count the glowing stars above my

bed, count the seconds til i fall asleep,

no  soft cushions only a  

filthy fast-food bathroom where 

he holds me against the door 

i am roadkill on the highway

raised skirt ripped tights  

he makes me into  

a cheap, two-dollar hooker 

and the drunken crowd cannot hear  

the thrumming of the plastic door  

right where  

my heart thrusts  

a banging drum, a village parade  

i am the looping circles of Dante’s inferno 

a circle of flames and fury 

a near fire if not for the  

rigid cold skin:  

fear smells metallic  

I know this now.