k.r. taylor

i pried into my ribcage to find 
where in this body lay the generational heirloom            
of every woman in this family’s susceptibility 
to hands that stain us hues
green and purple 

and paint red with white knuckles 
and verbatim apologies
to follow with threats of a gravestone
dedicated to our footprints at the front door

i cried out hoping the tears could flush out
whatever i inherited in my eyes
to make it that i never saw this coming

but the blame was not in me
there was nothing wrong with my body
or within my lineage to give me you 

fault falls in the lines between your eyes
as your brows furrow and spit slips from your lips
the blame shamelessly pulses on the sides of your neck
as blood curdles in your throat

the remorse only ever existed in my chest
every time i wondered who taught you this cruelty
and how i ended up in such a familiar condition
to those who came before me
and the little girl i used to be     

forgiveness actively fills the blood dancing through me
as i discover the beauty in walking away
and savor the taste of peace
in this ability that was never taught to me