1. Object stays object (ball gag).
Object resists: becomes toy.
Aggressor wants a game that doesn't snap Play nice!
2. My daddy drove a tank. Violent
tongue's a lot
to understand,
jails another woman.
3. Object stays object. This one's blind.
Stays on family property, chain link fence
marks a boundary. Next door, aggressor whispers.
4. My mothers chose death.
5. The animal will always relapse, behave badly.
6. Object stays object, chooses to.
Its own eyes watch for flaws.
They learned how to very young.
7. Richard counts out money for tokens.
In a small booth, a naked girl appears
on a little television screen. Blowjob
bobbing makes me nauseous. He asks
if I'm all right.
8. Chewing—how girl shows love.
Gnawed collar sleeps with Daddy
in his grave. She plays pretend
in secret—he talks to little cloud,
always saying it's okay.
9. If defiant:
removes affects, starts over.
Repeats.
10. Houses fall to Hell.
Fire spreads down
streets, climbs buildings.
The people who don't die
suffer the sounds
of those who do.
Electrician, driver, hiker, fisherman,
Maths & Sciences student, aggressiveness,
unshaven, loud-mouthed, Logical
Philosopher, atheist, carries a knife,
has a gun, mohawk, argumentative,
arrogant, noticeably undresses women
with her eyes, pervert, doesn't cook,
genius, scars
I sit in my father's office, circle in the
carpet-gray chair. Little girl
and hunting dogs eat butter
in the television room. The
tub glows. I painted a
mural on the toilet at
six years.
Gutted, laid aside with the doe.
Woman paid no mind to the
expiration date of meat.
Cutter Mondo—boy and his sheet, his
stacks of books, his flavored
cigarettes, his girl singers.
In the office I sat behind his
desk. I felt like a totalitarian.
It did not hurt.
Hanna Elson, a hermitic musician and writer, lives in the Blue Ridge foothills, in western North Carolina, where she studies, writes, and records music. Her poetry has recently appeared in Stone Highway Review, Stirring, Martian Lit, and Ginger Piglet Magazine. She grew up in New York.