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Lolita’s Response
1 Dad, blight of my life Child of his loins His sheepskin soul Da-d; two palate taps Da. D He was Dad, plain Dad, in the morning Standing six foot two in socks Da-d I am his on the dotted line But in his arms I am always Lolita I am made of you Can-barely-write-your-name-father. Here I’ll help you spell your name B R U T E Br-u-te One step of the tongue to the palate Predator that owns me on the dotted line Still, Men in wigs call me Lolita Three foot ten in peach polyester They repeat it; Lo-lee-ta They probably call their own daughter Lo. Lee. Ta. Sugar scratches thighs and I count how much I am worth in oil stained notes My family know, like I know, That I am collateral damage so I learn all the tricks to get a man off quickly You have your mother’s eyes Lolita Underage temptress in polyester Lo. Lee. Ta. Child fatale without a cup size You say you can’t hear, Brute, in your glass box When they read the charges And I understand why a Mother will hide a madman Tries too hard Lolita We can expect great things of her Lolita Cries if she gets a B Lolita Touch yourself for me Lo-lee-ta Barristers look at me like the jury looks at me And I trust when they tell me that I am dangerous because they have law degrees to tell them black from white, because I don’t know what’s right And then- You look at me Like we were never in love, like you don’t know me Like I was never yours Look at this tangle of thorns 2 I watch you in the garden Taking apart bikes and laying out their shining innards You smell like oil and Strange soap And chains clicking on gears like vertebrae And I think that the oil on your hands never comes off That your fingertips will always drag on skin We go to fairs on Sunday mornings to search through junk for a glint of treasure that we both understand. Carpet tacks and floorboards under cold feet and intimate places And I understand that I am under hand That this is out of hand 200 toy ponies I like to categorise as I learn to compartmentalise: Girl and Lolita Dad and Brute Because when you love something bad for you- ‘Dad’ is a glint of pony hair underneath outgrown clothes and it doesn’t matter if there are pen marks; if there are black marks; if there are blue marks- When I am fully grown I look for you in a man who talks about his daughter and I wonder if I am holding someone else’s Brute and I wonder if he has ever compartmentalised Brute tells me; I’ll love you and leave you, for the last time when I am nearly grown When I loved him before I left him 3 Feeling safe in arms Covered in mermaids before I’m fully formed The world is a hazy secret that adults know, but to me, Safe is unsafe and black is white He: cragged, haggard, you: breasts too small new in crop tops You caught me when I was red and screaming and new Then tried to kill me when I wasn’t two But you- You’re like my yo-yo that glows in the dark So I bury you and forget Once We were driving too fast And you weren’t making sense I thought: It would be easier if we crashed; It would be easier if I just died with you Because I don’t know what to do. But- Then- You played me a song That you said reminded you of me And I knew that neither of us was getting out alive Barely-write-your-name-father, You escaped to sea to avoid your own Brute But you swing wildly like him; like a creature that doesn’t know any better We. Bonny and Clyde. You and me We have blood ties and what makes you like him; what makes me like you; makes me dangerous We. Father and Child, Lolita and Brute. You say if I leave you you’ll go to Spain to drown like you’re still Sweet 16 Crying in the dark like you were never loved Like no-one taught you how to love Dying is easy But this? This isn't easy So retreat back to water and drown 
Klara Piechocki-Brown (they/them/she) is a writer and illustrator. Their work is often odd, dark but ultimately reassuring. Klara has an MA in Creative Writing from Oxford Brookes University and lives on the @illustratedboat narrowboat with their partner, three cats and two house rabbits. Klara identifies as bisexual and trans non-binary, are passionate about LGBT rights, and are never knowingly underdressed. They recently finished a novel about polyamorous time travellers, and are working on another about a cold case murder, a reluctant psychic, and a David Bowie obsessed ghost. Website: www.klara.co.uk / Twitter: @KlaraPiechockiB / Instagram: @klarabowpiechocki_illustration. 
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