#OctPoWriMo: Day 16-19 #MeToo
OctPoWriMo Day 16:
We help our people?
What about Puerto Rico?
There’s still no power.
OctPoWriMo Day 17: Journey through the Universe
around the sun to get here.
—Still hoping for more.
OctPoWriMo Day 18: Nightmare
Locked in a box in which someone else had the key,
I was alone in the dark with nothing to see.
I pounded on the box with all of my might
gathering all of my strength and putting up a big fight.
I heard you outside the lid, and a voice from a man,
I thought to myself, “I need to yell as loud as I can.”
I struck the box with immense power and vigor,
Hoping no one outside would put their finger on a trigger.
As I screamed for you the box began to diminish,
my body was paralyzed as the dream began to finish.
I screamed for you in the dead of night
piercing the veil between life and death and dark and light.
OctPoWriMo Day 19: #MeToo
I didn’t say anything when I was eleven and wore a Tinker Bell shirt.
You asked me what it said and tried to touch the breasts I didn’t even know I had.
When I looked scared and tried to pull away you said you were only trying to flirt.
You were older, had a beard, and might have been older than my dad.
At eighteen I had my first sip of vodka and you waited for me to finish it.
“I thought you’d never finish that drink,” you said, and wouldn’t let me walk away.
I felt rude if I left, bad you bought me a drink, and I didn’t want to look like I was having a fit.
You wouldn’t stop texting me when I escaped and you followed me around the next day.
At twenty-three you looked at art with me and waited till the coast was clear.
You had complimented my dress, grabbed my arm, and then pulled me into a vacant space.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t yell, but I pushed hard even as I was drowning in fear.
I punched you and got away, but know I left vowing to never go back to that place.
And now at twenty-seven, I go out less at night and still shake as I recall my tales.
I try to wear a brave face and act as though nothing ever bothers me,
But brave women coming forward and sharing awful encounters about some males
Has given this poet the courage to recall my story and set it free.