A Girl Could Disappear Like This, by Deborah Schwartz
At night, you come into my bedroom / as someone else’s idea of wind.
When my voice and body catch up, I listen to night. But night doesn’t speak to me
I know that night and the sky are not people and don’t have a voice. And that most likely the voice I hear in the night sky is my own. I also know that I am not innocent. I hand myself a scalpel to slice off the parts of me that are not me. The night which is a time and the sky which is a place watches me cut what isn’t mine from my own body. - excerpt, from "A Girl Could Disappear Like This"