WOMEN ARE TAUGHT

I’m convinced it’s a man’s smell that pulls us in—

faux leather and spiced soap, splashes of lemon

and Old Spice, the odd oil tinging his sweat.

As women, we were designed to wither beneath

the mingled stench of them. As a woman, I was

yo, yo, baby work that big ass, you must want

designed

what I got

to wither

c’mon honey just let daddy stick it in a little bit

beneath

bitch of course i love you i give you money don’t i

Why else would i cage myself in glorious raiment

of spandex and lace, paint my panting the hues

of burn, twist my voice from madam to smoke?

Why else, once he has left me, do I bury my face

in the place his sex has pressed, inhale

what he has left, and pray to die there?

On the day I married, I was such porcelain,

delicate and poised to shatter. I was unflinching,

sure of my practiced vows,

already addicted to the sanctity of bondage.

I was an unfurled ballad in a scoop-necked

sheath carved of sugar. And him on my arm,

grinning like a bear, all sinew and swagger.

Bibles were everywhere. Dizzied by rote,

I stared at the gold rope around my finger.

He owned me.

And that felt nice.

That felt right.

the first time i hit her

I thought the loose tooth a temporary nightmare

the second time i hit her

He cried himself to sleep, and that was nice,

that was right

the third time i hit her

He counted my scars and whispered never again

baby never again

When i’d die without you

turned to i’ll kill you if you ever leave me

I bristled like a hound in heat, I didn’t

understand the not being aroused, when

let’s get away

turned to

you’ll never get away

such heat rippled my

belly such crave in me screeching walk run run run

run

i etched a thin line into the throat of her running

run

i stalked streets just a breath behind her

run

i shattered our son’s skull with a shotgun

run

i wanted her dead.

My first thought as he jammed the

still smoking barrel into my breastbone

her first thought

as the blade mapped my chest, the

hammer sliced the air toward my hair

the bullet pushed me through a plate glass window

my last thought you won’t believe this

my last thought

you really won’t believe this

my last thought

was

he must really

love me