i am my father’s son in that i ate him whole it’s my party trick i. eat. men.
my mom forgets stories. she forgets much of my life and rewrites it in tandem with how she wishes i was. the one thing she keeps is that she insists there were two of me.
“you were twins and then you were just you.”
just me. the first disappointment.
i tell this as “i ate my twin in the womb.”
i am my father’s son.
i am his monster. i am his son
crawling about on all fours and scratching at the walls
never feared enough to be left alone
over the years that clump i deemed a part of me in vitro has turned into a son.
he is friendly, charming, and athletic. he is nice to strangers and pleasant to be around in the morning. he played football. he dated cheerleaders. our parents like him for his personality.
there’s nothing worse than an ugly daughter
he is everything i am not.
i ate a little boy and became my father’s son
he is also mean. he hates me. he thinks i’m unladylike and rude. he calls me names. we fight. we’re estranged. my mother coddles him. my father is proud of him. he bullies me and everyone tells me i’m lying about how he stood over my bed as children and said, “no one would miss you when they have me.”
i am my father’s son
an extension of him still
what he loathes in me i stole from him
man’s vengeance is an eldest daughter who has had enough. i may be evil. i may even be in the wrong but what i am not is going down with just myself as company. i will not drown without those that threw me in.
i ate my father’s son to be born alone now i am a monster i am my father’s son a pretty appendage of all that makes man angry and biting and clawing and mean and spiteful and slutty and rude and loud
a few reasons i hope to be a disappointment.
if i disappoint those that disappointed me i have found success
if i disappoint those that disappointed me i have hurt my monsters
if i disappoint those that disappointed me i can say i slayed the beast of daughterhood
i am my father’s son every sighting of my monster is just as his
i protected my mother from our monster once. she hated me for it.
i let it keep her.
i let it stay.
it let it believe it is safe from my ire.
he does not believe in monstrous things they ask if he’s seen the thing leaving mangled man bodies and tearing through the night he does not
“she never does this.”
“we don’t know what got into her.”
“she used to be so good.”
“what happened to my sweet girl?”
i killed her like i killed her brother.
i am my father’s son i make him proud with all my teeth
if i had been born a son, that time i punched a wall would’ve been beautiful. it would have been my becoming. it would have made my parents proud instead of afraid. it would have been reasonable. it would have made sense. it would have been my first attempt at making them listen rather than my last attempt at keeping them back.
i am my father’s son i was not born one so instead i’m a little monster i’ve crawled around on all fours and scratched at our walls and my skin and screamed “i am yours. i am yours. i am yours.”
as it turns out, monsters are still household animals so they must be cared for. they must have a caretaker with little hands who sees the monsters for what they are and loves them still.
so i am my father’s son with all his teeth and hair and blood beneath the nails what he loathes in me was once his a divine karmic joy if only i’d been born a son.
that boy i ate does not sit well. he makes me angry and writhing and loud. that boy i ate isn’t happy i ate him. that boy i ate hates to live with me.
i ate him i ate him it’s my party trick i. eat. men. i ate them all whole