While my youngest sister lies on her back, stripped naked ,
and three boys, one at a time, move over her, I am applauding
when an entire row of girls
wearing bright red bathing suits
fleeced with white fur
kick open their legs, the whole house applauds
at that moment. While my youngest sister looks into the dark
wide pupils she will look into
for the rest of her life, the boys
who prick her throat with a knife
feel only a momentary pleasure .
And just when I think The Christmas Show is over,
the curtain opens once more
with sheep, straw and stars
and the story of the nativity begins,
of a birth with no sex in it.
A real live camel is led across the stage
in a caravan with sheiks, children and beggars
waiting to be touched and saved,
but at that moment
my mother is rushing to open the front door
my sister pounds
and pounds on, blood on her face, her lips
swollen, her cheek swollen, her
eyes swollen, having seen enough.
