On The Waves


On the waves 1.


Squeezed together like cigars in a box they lie,

Rocking, and roiling.

Sweat beads and is stolen by another dry body.

Square light enters into this hell of sorts.

She looks toward it, craving the feel of the sun on the cauliflowers that decorate her bruised skin.

Men come down through the light like dark angels.

She shrinks back.

The men grimace at the stench of the pit and flick their lines of leather at a man who had naively

crawled closer to the light.

The dark creature groans, and goes back to his pitiful heap in the row.

The women weep silently and hide their children in the shadows; the only good thing to come

from their prison.

The shorter of the men come toward her and she cannot run.

He grabs her by the back of her neck and gets close.

He breathes her in and trails his slimy tongue down her neck.

She tries again to move but he drags her out into the light she had wished for so earnestly before.

Now she resented that traitorous feeling and fought back futilely.

She hasn’t yet learned to just stay limp.

He smacks her.


Still she fights.

Biting, clawing, and kicking.

Her eyes flash with hatred so hot it burns and water floods them out,

Attempting to put out the flames that must be there.

He pins her and smashes her head on the ground.

What she sees last is crimson and a wicked smile.


On the waves 2.


She tries to sit up but can't.

She opens her eyes and is assaulted by the sight of that short man on top of her.

Something rips from her throat and blood melts on her tongue.

It is not human what comes out, but something entirely alien and painful.

The man enjoys her screams.

So much so that he wants to swallow it and make it his.

He covers her mouth with his own, forcefully and when she stops screaming he pushes his

tongue in.

Sense comes back to her and she bites down on his tongue.


He tries to pull back but she doesn’t let go.

His blood, metallic and sickeningly warm, spills down her throat and mixes with hers.

She coughs and lets him go.

He gets off of her and she escapes into her fellow livestock.

They shield her, protecting their own the only way they can while they are chained down.

In her dark, hot cocoon she spits the blood up.

The thought of him being a part of her that way...too much.

Too much.

Not just his blood had been spilled.

It slipped down the inside of her thighs and pooled at her feet.

Tears made haste down her purpled cheeks as she realized what had happened.

That’s when the pain came.

Without pity, or even a warning a shredded feeling spread through her belly and along the open

cuts electricity sparked.

And with it a wave of emotion crashed down on her, filling her lungs with blood and the promise

of more pain.

She curled up into a ball even as her shield fell in bloody piles about her.

The men had been chopping down her mahogany wall as she'd grieved.

Brutally. Senselessly. Joyfully.

This was fun for them.

To see the savage beasts die by their swords.

To see Cain's marked fall to kneel before the Chosen children of Abel.

When they had cut and kicked the dead out of their way through to the wench girl, she was sobbing.

They laughed mirthfully.

She watched through curtains of salt water as they swirled their swords in their grasp.

She watched as they grabbed her and dragged her up through the light.

She learned to stay limp.

She felt that burning star on her skin and little swords of wood pierce her skin and did not flinch.

She had learned her lesson well.

She watched as her captors threw her and her shield, in pieces, over the edge of the boat.

She sighed as she hit the water.

These waves caressed her with care.

She sunk down and lay to rest on the waves.




This poem is about: 
Our world
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