Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2020

Questions for the Woman I was Last Night, 2

Questions for the Woman I was Last Night, 2
Photograph via Flickr by Lip Kee

after Kush Thompson, after Warsan Shire

When you didn’t open your eyes,
when you kept your fists closed,
when he entered you,
where did you go?

When you parted your lips despite this,
were you surprised when nothing
honest came out?

When the bed, a gentle tomb,
                                                        not yours,
but some other girl beneath some other

           a warm mouth that pressed its blue
downy lips around your limbs, did it make
a sound when it gave way to your body?

Did the canary in your throat come out
screaming or was it drunk on tunnel
dust and loneliness?

Were you just waiting for light
at the mouth of the boulders? Did you hear
anything when you were inside?

When he asked if you were okay four times,
did you say yes because you were still alive
or because you saw the bird bones on the ground
and knew you hadn’t yet become them?

When he stopped because he knew you really weren’t,
was it to talk about the bones or to pour cement
over the opening?