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Fascists made recourse to castor oil, the cudgel (manganello), devastations, and fires.— Simonetta Falasca-Zamponi

The snap of bullet against bone woke us
from the clamp of feverish siesta,
our limbs tangled, burning.
Me, buttoning my dress
when they crossed the threshold—
their boots shiny, shirts wet.

Now, an unfastened shutter scrapes
against tile, measures time.
Their razor rasps and pools my hair
in bundles beneath the stool—
my skull a dog’s pale belly.

This, my auto-da-fé: their step
over your broken legs, the mouth
of a gallon jug forced between my teeth,
the sweep of castor oil in my throat,
and the memory of your forearm—
a map of vein and muscle under my hand.

~Heather Lee Schroeder