This piece isn’t directly related to Carolyn’s, but she and I—like so many women and girls—have spent a lot of time talking and thinking about harassment this year.
You wanted to know where I was going.
Well,
I’m feeling generous.
Last week when you whistled at me from behind
I was on my way to poop
in the Starbucks public bathroom.
Three days ago when you hollered
at my hips I was going to borrow some tampons
for the blood in my grungy underwear.
Yesterday when you told me
I wouldn’t be able to run away I was en route to a wart-removal kit
and some toenail clippers.
Today it’s my turn to talk.
Tugged skyward by moontides
pinned earthside by gravity
women stride, shift, stomp, eat
space. We are a flesh requiem,
we are ancient torchbearers and eternal life-breathers
and we are all of these things bound up in skin and blood and bone,
like yours.
I am in a carnal orbit of my mother’s creation,
like you.
I am skin and phlegm and sinew
like you.
I am a bloody, belching, hungry, lusty, defecating, ephemeral lump
of flesh and stardust,
like you.