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Origins of an Exile

Updated: 2 days ago

by Haley Bossé



Believe me, I never suspected,

I never thought critically, never

Wondered what was under her skirt, I

Heard she wanted attention,

Just needed money, just

Hated that boy so much

She destroyed the one thing he loved.


I heard she

Never existed. No, it’s not silly.

You never know what a thing


In a skirt will turn out to be:


A boy, a gash

In the earth, a tongue

Licking the rusted lip

Of a doorframe, an excuse


For luring that teacher


Back to his classroom. I heard

She sat outside his door for hours,

Heard he never let her in, I


Heard she wrote his name

On her arm with a pencil

So many times he started to leak

And then pour I


Hear they just gave up on

Finding her. I heard her

Crying in the woods

Outside of town, trying

To remember who she had been


Before we called her what she was I heard her

call out what she was I heard her call me what

I was I heard her pencil breaking on a desk I

heard the leaking of my self I heard her crying

out my name I heard her name me what I was

I heard her ripping denim skirts and soaking

them in flames I heard her laughing at their

suspect singing out my name heard her heard

her pouring back her blood her arms around

my waist I heard the screeching of an owl I

heard her say my name



 


Haley Bossé (they/them) is a queer, non-binary poet, educator, and maker of things you can hold in your hands. Find Haley on Twitter at @TalkingHyphae or guest editing a Non-Binary themed issue of Eye to the Telescope.

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