First Poem in Forever
when I tell you of rape
i.
you ask me if I’m okay physically
and I nod my head yes, whisper yes, I’m fine
but all I really want to do is grab your face
between my palms, pierce your eyes with my stare,
rattle your ears with my screams:
physically doesn’t fucking matter,
my body doesn’t fucking matter.
ii.
you lay your hand on my knee
while you speak to me,
stroke it gently with your fingertips,
use your thumb to draw tender circles
and I lose the sound of your voice, forget
that we were speaking, lost in the sensations
the vibrations of your fingers make on my skin,
coming back to the moment only when you ask
if it’s okay to touch me.
iii.
you try to hold me in the moments
I become lost in the memories,
climb swiftly and gracefully off my bed
like only your body can, and place your arms
around my withered frame. When I warn you
that if you keep standing there, I might fall apart
you ask me what I want you to do,
only, I don’t answer what I really want,
I answer what would be best for you
and tell you to stop holding me.
iv.
you listen clearly to my silence,
sit in the present with me in a way
I didn’t know we could exist together.
I want to tell you everything he did to me,
tell you about the way he positioned my body,
the way he cleaned up my vomit,
the way his voice sounded when he told me
I was his secret crush-but I don’t.
I just keep us sitting in the silence and let your eyes
cleanse me while I’m smothered in this dirt.
v.
there is so much I want from you tonight,
and while you give me almost everything I need,
you keep from me the one thing I want most-
your apology for leaving me, for forgetting
that as a woman, I am not safe alone.
you are wonderful in the ways you listen and comfort,
touch and heal, and though you didn’t rape me,
though you are the one sitting here with me tonight,
you are still a man and so it still feels as though you were in
on his plan.
i.
you ask me if I’m okay physically
and I nod my head yes, whisper yes, I’m fine
but all I really want to do is grab your face
between my palms, pierce your eyes with my stare,
rattle your ears with my screams:
physically doesn’t fucking matter,
my body doesn’t fucking matter.
ii.
you lay your hand on my knee
while you speak to me,
stroke it gently with your fingertips,
use your thumb to draw tender circles
and I lose the sound of your voice, forget
that we were speaking, lost in the sensations
the vibrations of your fingers make on my skin,
coming back to the moment only when you ask
if it’s okay to touch me.
iii.
you try to hold me in the moments
I become lost in the memories,
climb swiftly and gracefully off my bed
like only your body can, and place your arms
around my withered frame. When I warn you
that if you keep standing there, I might fall apart
you ask me what I want you to do,
only, I don’t answer what I really want,
I answer what would be best for you
and tell you to stop holding me.
iv.
you listen clearly to my silence,
sit in the present with me in a way
I didn’t know we could exist together.
I want to tell you everything he did to me,
tell you about the way he positioned my body,
the way he cleaned up my vomit,
the way his voice sounded when he told me
I was his secret crush-but I don’t.
I just keep us sitting in the silence and let your eyes
cleanse me while I’m smothered in this dirt.
v.
there is so much I want from you tonight,
and while you give me almost everything I need,
you keep from me the one thing I want most-
your apology for leaving me, for forgetting
that as a woman, I am not safe alone.
you are wonderful in the ways you listen and comfort,
touch and heal, and though you didn’t rape me,
though you are the one sitting here with me tonight,
you are still a man and so it still feels as though you were in
on his plan.