on sundays we cry as we're made to
touch each other's skin and then on
mondays lay down and die it's
back to work again
tuesdays dad comes back home but
we don't smile, he's a bit of a fiend
cheeky grins, excited gnashing saved
for wednesdays when we get born again
on thursdays we eat our hands and
pick pebbles from sewer sand, we hide souvenirs
of outside life inside books and atop shelves and
in the crevices of each other's skin so mamma
cannot cry and choke herself over what a mess we've made
when friday finally comes around we are saved, best for
last, our fingers feel nice pressed against his cheek in
a hot pot in hot breath
on saturday my legs shake and it hurts to walk but
it hurts to sit just as badly so i run and jump until
all i can feel is the soreness of legs and i bite my tongue
and laugh as it starts to bleed and don't our voices
sound kind of funny as we start to fall apart




C.A. Tebo is a 15 year old lesbian, currently living in a town with a population just above one-thousand that, prior to a few years ago, even she did not know existed. Her work deals mainly with religion, sexual identity, mental illness, coping, and occasionally talking animals. She is still new to what is known as 'the whole publishing thing,' but hopes to change that.