When it first starts, I feel enormously small, your weight squeezing me into steam. It’s fast and clumsy and I think of a cruel joke, but saying it would only absolve you. Rolling off, you look over your shoulder. Unblinking, I replay what you’ve done on the screens of my eyes, and in some awful mockery of paternal love, you throw a blanket my way, as if your hands were not enough to hide me even in the darkness.
–Art by Joanna Jankowska