Three Brides In My Atria Tear Apart Their Husbands
locked into a pulley of rope-– the blood flowers upon their dresses-– flesh like lace upon the stone floor They learned to love from mother dear who endeared them to hurt their own body first before ringing the bell tower of their lover Pain is a door to strength This is a not a celebration but a fist flexing in reverse Strength opens A name like a glove receives the hand offered it keeps it soft while flesh suffers by its work Mother demands new sons suffer through pleasure’s pleasure promise of a promise of a promise By the time the ceremony is complete guests will be devouring-– the grooms will be empty of all that was the grooms—will whisper so Only the baker’s baker can hear love put me here— I tied the rope with my teeth
-- Cassandra Whitaker (she/they) is a trans writer living in rural Virginia. Whit’s work has been published in MichiganQuarterlyReview,GulfCoast, Conjunctions, TheMississippiReview, and other places. Wolf Devouring A Wolf Devouring A Wolf is forthcoming from Jackleg Press in 2025. She is a member of the National Book Critics Circle.