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.