How even when we whispered it

there was someone shushing

our small mouths

with calloused fingers.

Pressing the words back inside

as if they were Ouranos

horror struck but what we birthed

in those terrible, unspeakable words.

Filling our bellies

with ideas we were not allowed

to give life to.

Until we burst from the ineffable

and held it screaming

before their faces.

Made them look

at what we’d made.