o ambition! o hand of fate! here’s a deal:

my girlhood for the rest of my life. 

pat me on the head,

lead me into the woods,

then either shoot me or shake my hand.

i’ve made it this far––i’ve tricked you this far––

i’ve sat and stayed and obeyed this far––

i’ve not asked you for so much, but

i’ll trade you this for the rest of my life. 

 

all the discarded detritus of my youth––

have my hair ribbons, my silk skirts,

the pointe shoes smothering blisters bursting,

the clumsy grace of my first waltz still trailing,

the tattered tongues of satin laces;

have my face paint, my cracked enamel rings,

my lip glosses pink and glistening–– 

the first aid kit in a makeup bag,

take the last glittering band-aid i saved 

for ‘special occasions’, like my first 

heartbreak, bitter and bloody and betrayed.

take my first kiss, and swallow it 

somewhere no one can hear it scream.

have the pockmarked vestiges of star-shot dreams, 

and i’ll take the scraps of a second, better life.

i will trade you the scarred corpse of a twelve-year-old

for just the chance––if it’s enough,

i will bet you all this to make something of myself.  

 

this is how it’s going to work:

i’ll build the sweetest home you ever did see.

i’ll play the role, i’ll get it right 

i’ll hang my dirty laundry out to dry

i’ll do my dishes, serve up justice,

i’ll sit myself down at my kitchen table,

scrub clean the handprints of my past, 

and in return, i’ll rip my throat to shreds,

scream it raw and cook it through.

in return, i get to walk out of hell with blood 

painted on my lips like a woman grown, my hands

dripping a red breadcrumb trail

in case i ever want to go back. 

in case i taste every last drop, and realise

my innocence was worth more than rot. 

 

if you lay it down in front of me,

i’ll spatchcock it like a human child, 

find the spine i never had, swallow it

like all the words i never said. 

i’ll butcher it as kind as i can,

savouring every morsel of flesh

disintegrating sickly-sweet on my tongue––

i suck the marrow from the bones

in the spirit of a second chance,

i make soup stock with the rest. 

Words by Ivy Wong. Art by Alice Robey-Cave.