you think I’m on my knees but I am not on my knees
every step is preparation
muscles slowly locking into place beneath bruised skin my bones are stalwart in their readiness despite the scars from your hands
twisting through their marrow
each movement is choreographed but this is not a dance – I am not a dancer
I am a singer who carries the moon like a song in her veins
my sisters hear the same drum beat
(you can hear our voices in harmony – a beautiful warning)
you’ve always thought I was beautiful
a canvas begging for your hands to brush in violet and red
but I am already painted in silver
that will be your downfall
my feet are beneath me now – there is no time to run
for I am much more than woman
(my voice is raised; my teeth are bared)
and you
are only
prey