When I was younger
I had been proud to say that
if a man were to come to me
demanding my virginity
or my life
like Perpetua
I would guide the gun
to my own head
and die rather than
give up my body
but when my time came
he didn’t have a gun
or a knife
just a pill that fizzed
on the way to the bottom of my cup
(or it should have — so sinister an
act shouldn’t have gone out with
such little flourish)
and I didn’t even fight
just sat there
laid there
floating in a dream where I could
slit my throat
but he never even gave me a choice
not even the decency to
supply me a gun
nor a threat
just an apology
and a bagel sandwich
in the morning
and the promise that he’d never tell
and that the secrets of my body
would remain that way
to everyone
but him
But it’s alright
though he persisted
I kept my promise
The joke’s on him.
That bastard
raped a corpse.
Photo by Clint McMahon
Dear Amber Konevel your poem is a reflection of reality the way of expression shows you as a good poet .all the best for you . I wish merry Christmas and happy new year both in advance