A Daring Destiny
Darling. I left the keys
to my heart where you desired them;
at the foot of where my body
lies, dripping, naked, wet and empty
—devoid of not just blood
but essential organs, and some limbs;
where you devoured me,
and thought you made sure I would never be able to dream
of a better place. A timeless space.
A real Kristang race
waiting, at the edge of the sea
to try again.
Try again, for me.
After all, this is who I try to flee:
you, my darling.
You, and what you left me:
scraps of my love, my strength, my very own
identity.
You stripped me down
and violated my sense of
history;
time and time again, yet,
I conglomerate what is left.
It is on brand.
It is, in sum,
all of who I am.
You were abusive.
And I?
I am fortune’s favoured fisherman,
dreaming to be rid
of every last flicker
of your flaming, infidel fuckery as I swim
in jest, you say;
I say betrayal begins
with a reduction.
A mutilation.
A vicious, empty residue
of Life, and love, and some other Kevin Martens’
vindication.