In a Minefield
by Jordan YoungWe are many, yet we wish we were few. We pray to grow as scarce as myrrh in a minefield.
But we go unanswered, left to our little selves, and we dance to remember, in a minefield.
The wise find better places than closets to hide, yet there he stands, still as a skeleton.
From behind a wardrobe door, he is privy to how his exposed lover boy suffers in a minefield.
The best-kept secrets are buried with the worms below, above Hades’s head, under Helios’s nose.
A mallard stole lady lark’s song, left her bloody feathers and broken heel covered in a minefield.
No, I never cared for theatrics or a stage, but still, I find myself here, day after day.
This eternal performance sacrifices me to a sea of eyes that I am made to cower in—a minefield.
Lovely Madame, you are oh so alluring! In lace sash and silk lashes, you are decadence come
alive. For you, they’ll lust, but Woman, they’ll never call you, only let you fester in a minefield.
Their maws will only demand more fruit from the womb while shaming the sowing.
They will wax pious for your decimated child and still expect you to mother in a minefield.
Across you, there lies a certain happy haven, but Jordan, what will you do? With your body,
a river drained, could you carry them? Or would you be left to suffer in a minefield?
