THE BIRTH OF VENUS

Submission by Lucy Fenell

My hands are splayed across my delicates.

They stare; they already know what’s underneath.

They tear off my skin, in desperate hopes to reveal the parasitic flesh,

trapped and squirming beneath.

What they found was pure light.

I want to return to nothing.

I beg of you, free me from this mortal vessel.

I am mortal, delicate, perishable but so powerfully alive.

Does my bare flesh scare you?

Are you afraid?

Was it not what you were expecting?

I’m sorry.

I can try to mold myself into something unique,

Something of a more acquired taste

Something more

Desirable.

I leave behind the mere mortal vessel,

Entirely at your disposal.

Jerked like a marionette.

Tossed like a ragdoll.

But I

I float above, watching

And I reckon.

I am no longer myself,

But a chalice,

For your consumption.