The Confession
Choking on my own tears, moaning through blood smeared panties, unable to swallow, both hands bound with rope far apart on the same brass bed where we conceived our first child, our only child—Milena, who is dead now—I am at last at peace. Karajan, my lover, finishes what is needed to my legs, binding them together like a mermaid’s fin. "Now you have some time to think," he...