when gabi hands him a doughnut
and another student says,
“sounds puritanical.”
no sugar
no carbs
sauces with no oil
“you know
at the end of summer
you need to
tighten things up”
he says.
sounds puritanical.
fear and self control
play well together
with guilt.
last year
we read scarlet letter
and the crucible
i shaved myself down
thin enough
to hide between pages
shame colonized
everywhere
i hollowed out.
my final project
critiqued the romanticizing
of female pain.
men made a fetish of
beautiful female death
only loved wan flesh
sick women
if there’s one thing
i’ve learned from the history
of this country
it’s hypocrisy.
we build a world
on things we can’t do.
i tell myself
i am fine.
don’t i mean better?
mean
my body
is stronger than
two hundred years
of romanticizing
everything not alive?
don’t i mean
i don’t wait for god to save me?
that
i don’t flinch
when mr. ashley doles out
self deprecation like
gabi doles out doughnuts?
my country hasn’t
recovered either.
my country still only
wants to hollow out.
still only
sees women
as candy wrapper
like lick out the sugar
and throw away the rest
my country
blesses men
who know witchery
but accuses women
for living.
dr. Ford death-threat forced to move,
while her assaulter moves to the supreme court.
trump calls accusations against him
“the greatest witch hunt in american history.”
what about salem?
what about anita hill?
what about social media comments that turn my friends’ Instagram accounts into public humiliation,
stocks,
pillory.
last year
i played betty parris
in the crucible
my brother
said i looked twelve
and i took it
as a compliment
wanted my body
to stay frozen
i sculpted myself
into someone
hawthorne could write about.
i’d like to say
history doesn’t repeat itself
but style magazine ads
show women drowning
under the weight
of their necklaces.
i’d like to say i make it across the ocean.
that I find land without taking away.
i’d like to say
i don’t spin
in a whirlpool of regret after dinner.
don’t feel like I’m navigating a hurricane
waking down the pioneer hallway.
i’d like to say
i have hop-across-the-ocean faith
let my body
believe in flesh
let me believe
in myself
every day
i make room
for this living
every day
i make my body
a new home.