Three Poems by M. Špoljar

Content Warning: suicide ideation, discussion of homophobia, and references to sexual abuse

summer of 2014

i sink to my knees by the abandoned hotel

another memory i wish i wasn’t myself in;

i want to be the summer air instead, i want to be the wind

i want to be a ripple in an ocean. i want

you off my hair, my tongue, i want

to be six, asleep and untouched

i want to be a different kid, i want a world

where there are kids no one has hurt yet.

i want god to exist, i want him

to drown us both again. i want punishment

i want a different punishment. i want him to not have made me

i want to be an abstraction, i want to be a metaphor

i want to be a thousand little metaphors, all shouting at each other

till the world explodes. i want to be a slur

on a crumbling hallway, i want to be graffiti

i want drunk teenagers to paint me, and i want them

to walk home safe. i want to walk with them,

i want a world where teenagers don’t kneel for men like you

or gods. i want god 

to have chosen a different career

i want him to have gone into street art instead,

i want him writing slurs with no one there to hurt with

i want him to write words no one gave a meaning to

i want to tell him, we invented meaning

we invented meaning and hurting each other like this

i want to be a god,

vengeful and omnipotent

i want to be a god

invented and disputable.

had it all backwards

(note: poem to be read both ways)

suicides will never suit us

i would rather grow old

but

i can

never sleep

the people who hate us

will never go silent

i

feel the burn

like the pride flags you will

set on fire

as i

realize

i really like women

sorry, mum

there is a hell

and i am going to see it

i want a better world 

but

i am so tired

i will make it count

if i'm still alive tomorrow

bite the hand that fingered you or whatever it was that boygenius said

do you want CORRECTLY?

do you even want. he cuts

apples into wedges between your ribs

finding a door to hold open. like

you could ever be a door. like

he would ever have to knock.

he loves you CORRECTLY

though his hands wander he always find a way

to make you wish that you were unborn.

he wants everything CORRECTLY

unlike you, he doesn’t flinch.

he feels your skin CORRECTLY

you feel everything wrong.

you promise to do this thing CORRECTLY

mutter every word you heard people use

rough your voice up, drag your lids down,

taste wine on your tongue

pretend there’s no him under it. 

wash him out your hair CORRECTLY

if you want a woman, 

want her while he's watching 

be a lesbian CORRECTLY

with lipstick on your teeth and a wink as you say it

as you cost first man a bone and make him lie to god

and choke him with the truth of why both of you are naked

M. Špoljar (he/him) lives in Croatia with his wife and their cat. His work has appeared in various places on the internet.