If I breathe very quietly

Will I survive the night?

You never told me

    this would hurt, you told me about the ghosts

but you never showed me the bones. 

Father, every story goes men,women,men,women,

Do I exist in the margins or am I 

the Dragon to be slain, the end of my bloodline

pain in a handful of dust.

I apologize for my trajectory, an instinctual betrayal,

I apologize for repeatedly dreaming of birds.

You never smiled thinner than the flat side of a blade,

    and my ribs contract. The promise of being bruised,

you see me in a white wedding dress and I say,

Destiny is something that only happens in hindsight.

Father, I liked the way she smiled as an afterthought,

    and believed that longing is more beautiful 

    than love. 

You taught me everything I had to relearn,

Rewrite all the fairy-tales, folklores, ancient myths, allegories, 

to give myself history. Claim my desperation.

I am erased every hour, and I had to paint Eve in the image of me.

Non-existence; Schrodinger’s animal, flesh and bone.

Today someone threatened to kill me in the hallway but I die only in small portions,

and I always save the one quota for you.

Father, can you say “I love you” and not continue after the “but”.