He places a torch and his tongue in my hand.
He places a cock and a gun down my throat.
He places some meth and his spit on the tip
of my tongue and asks me to speak until I’ve
Turned this situation into some form of song.
He places a serrated knife in my back pocket
And whispers that I’m weak and nimble and
Someday I might be beautiful enough for him.
He places an oil burner on my thighs that had
Been burning for the last two-hundred days
And says Wherever this scar goes you’ll take
Me with you and here he is: tongue ripped out.
He places many stories in my mouth, none of
Which would have belonged to me until he put
a small, red torch and his tongue in my hand.
I hope every time I open my mouth, you’ll hear
How I’ve turned his situation into a form of song.
Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Bangalore Review, 2River View, The Acentos Review, The Temz Review, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, Redivider Journal, Maudlin House, and others.
Photography by: Robert Thiemann