My head to their chests, finger-combed the greenīlades from my hair, said shhhh, I didn’t mean it. Grass, a knee in the dip of my spine, and the mutedĬlout of my palm on the dirt when I wrung an armįree to “tap out.” Time out, time out. Games of copsĪnd robbers, older cousins competing for the bestĪrrest. The morning after a storm, I find a tree’s severedĪgainst the cement barrier, the wood angles

Like that first sliver of string-cheese). Like opal or pearls, swiveling in the bathroom My hair back, show my mother- aren’t they gorgeous? In the mirror, I’ll twist and turn, sweep Like a large hair-clip with teeth or claws. The hurt-I tell myself that love is touchĪ purple salpiglossis with a yellow navel, A sliver of a man at the readyĪbusing god. Poem for My Rapist’s Supporters (Or, I Asked for It)īut a when. Each week, we will highlight different voices and stories. The series runs weekly, most often on Tuesday afternoons. ENOUGH is a Rumpus series devoted to creating a dedicated space for essays, poetry, fiction, comics, and artwork by women, trans, and nonbinary people that engage with rape culture, sexual assault, and domestic violence.