When you throw
away a daughter,
leave her lying
on the bathroom
floor - cover
the mirrors, but leave
the clocks ticking.
Don’t have a drink,
find a pill, swallow,
it will help
you sleep.
When you tell her
she is a hateful thing, slam
the door. Extract
all the air
from her chest.
Leave no marks,
you’ll need
an alibi.
When you ignore her, do it
to her face,
but avoid the eyes.
Tell her she has a smart
mouth, then feed her pie.
You’ll feel better.
Don’t forget
to top it off with blame;
it always tastes nicer
than denial.
When you tell
your daughter
she is hard to love,
do it while she is sleeping.
It’s the fastest
way to her core.
Rotten, spoiled girl,
make sure you wash
her mouth out.
When you cut her
off, do it slowly,
so the wound is deep.
Teach her to swim
but let her drown
in darkness.
Use her words
against her instead
of as a life saver.
When you abandon
her, wait until
she’s at the end
of her rope.
Pretend it isn’t real.
Time heals nothing.
Tell her to get
over it.
Don’t check
to see if she
is still breathing.
Heather Pease is a survivor and a poet. Her work has appeared in several print anthologies, literary journals, and international publications and aims to make people think about subjects often stigmatized through society. Her writing focuses on mental health, surviving abuse, feminism, self-acceptance and becoming whole; she writes to empower others whose voices remain unheard and lives in Southern California. Her debut book of poetry is Out of the Weeds (2020).