ophelia in black

what if 
ophelia soaked her clinging
dress in deep bass instead?
cut her hips through the air like question
marks in black maybelline,
making borders round her 
gaze: a country
men were known to end 
up drowned in, what if

ophelia read to herself
in the dark & coaxed 
panic out her wolfing breaths 
in a bathroom stall with 
wellness apps, ran 
back to class to dissect the body 
of a man named william 
shakespeare, looking for
darkness in the heart of it, what if

ophelia collected hoops
& struggled to lay
her edges with a toothbrush, 
tired of employment, didn’t call 
her parents enough, took long
baths in her bedsheets, bizarre
sleeps that didn’t succeed
in bandaging her up, what if 

ophelia cried about pimples, let run
her snot & saltwater through palms
pressed to her face, peeking
out from fingers at parents who didn’t 
know how to love the other, what if

ophelia pulled at the doughiness 
of her body, knuckled out
her flesh in the mirror like mother
pounded batter in the kitchen downstairs, what if

ophelia listened to kendrick
lick the word god
damn off the tongue of the dark air, played
that album over in the garden, sun
settling on her arms & legs 
like the debris of a boy who had once 
lived, what if

ophelia had to teach
people how to pronounce
her, wondered during smoke 
breaks if that man would 
make a love that didn’t
hurt, what if

ophelia was so afraid 
she kept living, sat still 
by water waiting for grace, too
bored of the ends 
men wrote for her, what if –


Illustration by Myriam Louise Taleb