Salt and Acid by Anastasia DiFonzo

Poetry

When she asks

if I believe her, I say

he pinned me down on a bench

in the middle of the night

like a father desperate

to pacify his babe

and wouldn’t let me go

until I stopped crying,

my tears turning to acid

on his salty hands.

He took a child’s

belt and yanked

it around my ankles

until they chafed,

sparked, and turned to fire.

He asked would I leave

if he strangled me,

as he cowered, insisting

he’d locked the door

in — as if one could lock the door

in — his eyes wet as the Beast

and I was his Beauty

and I came back, each time

I came back, but no,

I did not ask for it.

I say me too.


Anastasia DiFonzo (she/her) is a San Diego based poet with a cat named Klaus. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic, Gnashing Teeth Publishing, Sledgehammer Lit, Kalopsia Literary Journal, Salt & Citrus, and Drunk Monkeys. She is on Instagram at @anastasia.difonzo and Twitter at @anmidaludi.