this skin? it is rosy, not bloodied
when you spiral it between your fingers
the pores become *****
though they are not gunshot holes  

this mouth? has more to say than
just whimpers and whines
more than just wounded cries
I am a woman not just someone’s wife

these limbs? their shift without strings
what controls my legs is not seen
there is not a trigger to mash
when you feel entitled to **** me

my body is not a battlefield
my body is my shell, my body is alive

my body is mine.