Smile
Smile, he said
eyes on my face, heavy
like a logger with his saw at the tree
a little word and one more little cut
I bet you look better when you smile
and when I stared - not pretty then
his face fell off and only the anger
remained, a snarl, the ugly curl of his lip
Don’t make him angry, they said
It’s just a smile
just an off-hand command
my face like real estate, a blank
plot he could build on
his teeth showed sharp and angry and white
I spit a stream of acid
from the slick of my throat
Oh no they said
She didn’t mean it
It was an accident
as though I couldn’t control myself
as though I had no purpose or autonomy
as though they stripped me of all
my human capacity
for violence
Hannah Madonna is a writer from the southern United States whose work often explores nature, feminism, and living with anxiety and depression. She works as a reference librarian in a public library and starts an MFA program in 2020. Her poems have appeared in Vamp Cat Magazine, The Wild Word, and Cauldron Anthology. Find her on twitter @hannahwritegood crying about something or sharing pictures of her cat.
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