Camouflaged amongst
chaotic crowds
 
Eyes with a ****** range
Scanning
 
Target detected.
Locked in                              
 
since you weren’t
Locked up.
 
Heart rate raised. Enraged.
I check my calibre.

Cold hotel rooms during childhood family vacations
Looking for the peace and direction that never was
Feigning the pleasant vision of relationships
Longing to return to where everything was familiar
Despising the idea of society-influenced normality
Refusing any form of participation in your delusions
Falling asleep to do it all over again tomorrow.
I lie awake in my bed alone and older
But nothing else has changed.

I’m a righter – not a fighter.

Things will end how they may
But I securely believe
That some day
You lot will leave;
Every mismatched rhyme
And unknown connection
Will have its time
Shrugging off all signs of affection
Therefore dismissing any reason
That might reside in that mind
And I will ease on
To erase all memory of your kind.

I won’t choose this as my battle
Because I know where it ends –
It’ll inevitably shatter
And these shards don’t tend
To smooth themselves out,
Nor will you take it
Upon yourself to try a differing route –
A new escape – but the same ****.

So I’m left wondering why
It’s always my job to make it right.

i was 7 years old
when my world
came crashing down

what was once
a life filled
with color
with light
with happiness
with love

turned
dark
cold
sharp
dull

i have been fighting
the last 19 years
to fight back
to get her back
to feel again

i was just a child
when everything
was taken from me
without my consent

i will make her proud
i will be okay again
i will love again
i will be gentle again

i was just a
                     c h i l d

The boys who stole my innocence
On Facebook funded mission trips,
A worship leader in the church
That guitarist’s fingers strummed me first.

And not even til like his third or fourth try,
But, you know what? It’s cool, I hear he’s actually a really great guy.
I only resisted two or three times,
Said, “men are too visual, can’t interpret your signs.”

Besides, he’s God’s chosen, a man set apart in his time—
(But I say of men anointed, very few will rise.)

No hymnals for worship, this churchboy’s lips sang of me
Instead of the Gospel he was spreading my knees
Lies like ether, no sweeter wool for my eyes
Wet toothed and vile, shameless in his guise.

He says Jesus saved him; who was there to save me?
Perdition for a seductress—they call it PTSD.
And when his lips brush heaven, God will taste me;
My trauma at least, will have immortality.

the first time i felt like a woman
the ends of my fingers polished, lashes crusted to the sky, and sticky gloss that glued my mouth shut,
cotton bullets on strings in cardboard casings and demonstrations of crushed
flower petals—feminine virtue
defined by the presence of a *****

the first time i felt like a woman
fingers curling around the rubber fetus in
my pocket, nine year old hand
pressed to my nine year old womb, as
my classmate’s mother, donning culottes
and the armor of God, issued
Psalm 139 bookmarks to the class

the first time i felt like a woman
the stain of Life, wine dark and blooming
across my blue Fruit of the Loom’s
during fifth grade band class, at home
my mother demanding to know why i didn’t tell her of my first period, she asks if
i am a compulsive liar and leaves the
Wal-Mart bag in my room, unaware she
bought me the wrong bra size

the first time i felt like a woman
my first love said “I’m not putting it away until you touch it” and i hear his voice
when i check for ankle slashers
under my car before i climb in

the first time i felt like a woman
in tenth grade the chapel speaker’s mouth saying “the most precious thing a woman can give to a man is her body” to a room full of teenagers, i wonder if
my future husband sits among us,
and if he wonders what i look like naked

the first time i felt like a Woman,
my girlhood had to die.

age 6
you said “this is what friends do”
and placed a kiss on my lips

tell me how a kiss on the lips
became hands in pants
became “you can’t tell anyone”
when you saw my nervous excited scrawls about what we did in my diary

age 6
shame?
but I thought this is what friends did
I know now I’ll never tell my mother

age 7
you said you’d catch me a salamander
“okay”
I slip away a little more each time

age 8? 9?
these years are a blur
I know your brother touched me too

still never got that salamander

age 10
your fingers still ghost my skin
year to year

“i won’t bully you anymore if you be my girlfriend”
enough is enough
i slam my full body weight on those ugly hands

age 12
“I know what you did”
says your friend
I haven’t seen you in two years
yet you still come up to haunt me

age 14
“hey, you still live down the street? We should date”
how do you not realize what you’ve done

age 22
“Was he hot?” an old friend asks, probably on drugs
I show him your picture, shaking

later on I break an 8 year silence to ask you why.
“it didn’t happen again after that”
“it had a lot to do with age”
why can’t you just say sorry.

age 24
I still think about the things we did
you did
friends don’t kiss
friends don’t put their hands in each others pants
And I’ll still never tell my mother

Now here you come again to fetch me from the sea,
Ballast in my bones, this girl was born to sink;
A cautionary tale, I slip between the wood,
Limbs whittled thin and feet stained with soot.

But never-mind the waif; she waxes so pale
Drunk on dejection, I ponder the veil
Leaden and listless, for the sirens will sing:
Amaranthine is the color I bleed for the sea.

So I’ll spit out my sorrows wherever they listen,
Pumped me with pills and said that they fixed it.
The darlings have died off; the dolls are all broken,
Just left is me, thin-skinned and soft spoken.

And I’d rather lick knives than chew on love’s gristle,
Like a dog on a chain, I’d run when you whistle.
Far from it now, yet lost in the maze:
Chasing ways out for the rest of my daze.