Monatsbericht
written by: Bea Jav
I. Refusal
I don’t call it bleeding. That would mean something is wrong. This is a release. Revision. The archive is shedding its softest documents. Each lining is a sentence I never dared to speak, each clot a draft I chose not to submit. Men want stories with direct, clean endings. I prefer different versions every time. The sheets remember all of it.
II. Domestic scene with ache
He never says it, but he flinches. The way he handles the stained towel – two fingers, held out from the wrist – like a secret he wishes to expose. I boil water. Cancel everything. Text: Not today. What I mean is: I am floodplain. I am crimson & rhythmic & full of knowledge he never was made to carry. Still, I open the door. Still, I let him in.
III. The history in my body
Sometimes I dream of a room where no one can see me or speak my name. Walls made of soft pulp, floorboards that do not sound. A room that has emptied itself but still murmurs about all the children that have been there. In a few days, I will lay out the table for my guest. Now isn’t this – according to the records – hospitality?
- Monatsbericht - November 6, 2025
