‘Mouse’ by Amy Blythe

I was held down
by a man who told me I bucked
like a wild horse
but if that were true
I would have thrown him off

I try not to be reminded of him
when you hold me down
in those moments I lie very still
and you tell me I am like a mouse.
I much prefer to be a mouse.

When I am not a mouse he finds me over and over,
he turns me feral
and reminds me that I asked for it.
Which ought to explain why I am still
paying for it.

Why I washed but it was no use.
You can reassure me
that some things can be dirty
yet still be clean,
that tame and wild can be the same thing.

If you have ever felt ruined you might know the feeling
of putting yourself back together,
then allowing someone to take you apart again,
but this time strategically,
and to your liking.

From issue #3: autumn/winter 2016

About the Author
Amy Blythe graduated from Queens University, Belfast with a Masters in Creative Writing, after which she returned to her home county of Kildare where she is now managing an office. She has previously been published in Crannóg, The Stinging Fly, The New Writer, Pea River Journal and Skylight 47.