golden numbers

a daughter that has nothing,

but a price slapped on my forehead—

announcing a sash of gold,

for a pale, pure and vulnerable body in return

a dilemma,

whether to cut the chain from my family

or to be loved again from another

stuffing my mouth into their food,

as mother gossips the words

of me into the long noses of the circle of aunts, nieces, cousins and grandmothers

nothing,

but the sweet words spoken to lure such men

— exquisite, charming smiles that trades for the cents that will feed my family

less than the intelligence—

whether the droplets of coins or not,

the numbers that protect me fail to save my soul from my family ruins

with a little mouth

that speaks no reason,

i forbid to undermine my family

and the struggles that marry my existence

and mother and father,

the core that makes me a daughter

distraughts the numbers

you ought me to be