48
The Forge POETRY
Spring 2021
the truth is Dark Under Your Eyelids By: Victoria Mendoza
After Charles Simic my love. And isn’t that its own kind of tragedy? Where lips say yes or hips say more or where a slumbering form is invitation in and of itself, the truth is stuck under your scrunched-shut, false-slumber, “please godmother come witch your way into this satin theft and unmake this beast of a would-be prince.” My brave little curse bearer, wouldn’t it be nice to unburden all that rage? Wouldn’t it feel so sweet, so refreshing, to just render undeserving flesh from intrusive hand and nourish your vengeful hurt?
Artwork by Donna Tran