I have not been able to fall asleep.
Hence, first poem in months. For those of you who weren't aware that La Casa de Merc is currently a 24/7 rape crisis center, warnings for themes of sexual violence/sexual assault do apply. I wouldn't call anything under the cut graphic, per se, but the metaphor isn't prettifying.
order of operations
He said,
"We have to be careful not to ruin his life."
And despite the years, and the rust from abortive calculus,
I did the math.
His life. Value male, Y to and over and supra to X: delicate, complex. Infinitely worth preserving. Arising naturally through influences, innocent as crystal.
And her life.
First: the life of a her is an empty set. She is a she, hence a force: velocity and a miasma of unsteady emotion. She can act upon he only; she has no permanence and suffers no effects.
(I discover it is a word problem.
A dissection hopes to be objective. Everyone says: you'll pick it to death.)
The value of she is to be full of shoulds. She should have, she should not have. It is the value of should to be subtracted from harm.
'He abused his ex-girlfriend.' She should have known who to trust.
Solution: 'He is sick.'
'He did not let me say no.' She should not have asked for rough sex.
Solution: 'He misunderstood.'
At some times, a should may be greater than the value of a she. Then the harm is zero.
"I hate to say it," he said.
"But she handled this whole situation very badly."
Do not show your work.
eta: Writing this, as well as calling a 24/7 hotline for survivors and their friends/family and talking to the nice girl there, have both made me feel relieved and calm in a way I wouldn't have thought possible. I think I can sleep now.