but got mad when I agreed.
No, I did not want to move in,
but I was merely 21-years old;
a wee lass some might say,
although you would disagree:
You’re forgetting about agency,
as if young women in this world
walk without a path.
I forgot, I just pretend
to seek new territory,
donning my colonialist guise
for some approval.
As if I’d ever believe I owned something,
I don’t even own this body
I rent it out and sometimes you
are willing participant.
Oh Hades, I do believe you have no choice
to cultivate your underworld
to live with the things
I pretend don’t exist
such is my way, &
I’d be flattered to sit here in decoration,
counterparting antique furniture,
long-growing vines,
encompassing bookshelves
& posterity; if only so much
did not ride on the things
that exist beyond us.
[Selena Cotte is a poet and technology scholar living in Chicago and online. Her work has been published in journals such as Hobart, Sad Girl Review, Witch Craft Magazine, and others. She’s @selenacotte wherever you think that may work.]