She is her own past and future
her knees bent behind her
muscles fattened with lethargy
why do I want her? his voice in the distance
why would I want those breasts that sling
slow about her bones like sorrow
those eyes that look as if they have cried
once too often
she is imperfect
she is not new and clean
nor ready for your molding
she is broken and fused and broken and fused
some of her will never knit back together
where gaps form there are questions
how did it come to this?
what made you think you could?
and she defies him with her knees
bent beneath
her proud back
arched taut, ready for arrow
he may think he is in control
he knows
nothing of her will