Content Warning: There is a brief discussion of sexual assault in relation to the bravery of the women who have stood up to speak their truth about their experiences with Brett Kavanaugh. The poem, “Composition” is not related to sexual assault. Please protect yourself.
If you are a suvivor and you are struggling:
In the US visit RAINN (Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network) or call (866)-656-HOPE (4673).
In Canada visit the Canadian Resource Center for Victims of Crime.
Other US & International Hotlines including Suicide Prevention visit The Buddy Project.
Hello, My Beauties,
As an incest and rape survivor, I have found myself struggling with ugly memories this past week. But I have also seen an incredible outpouring of strength. We’ve seen the incredible bravery of those women who spoke out about Brett Kavanaugh to protect our democracy: Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, Deborah Ramirez, and Julie Swetnick. We’ve also been witness to the two women who confronted and challenged Senator Jeff Flake (R-AZ) about his vote for Brett Kavanaugh, Anna Maria Archila, Maria Gallagher. These women have been joined by thousands of survivors who have come forward to speak their truth and support each other.
I wanted to bring something beautiful into the world today. I’ve been pondering the ways we bare ourselves when we strip down to our skin. The way that one body sings to the other. When I found a lover who saw and heard me, with whom I could be naked, I discovered a freedom I hadn’t known before. I was free to explore my desires without shame and without apology.
It’s my hope that you all find that freedom for yourselves.
Be well and Be Wonderful.
You can listen to Composition by clicking play
My body is music. Your music,
from the perfect embouchure
of my lips around your cock,
to my muscles, taught with desire,
resonating like the strings of a harp.
Each melody I compose is alive
with the taste of your kisses,
sweet like stolen sips of Meyer’s & Coke.
The rhythm of your movement within me,
as comforting as long shadows
stretching across the lawn at dusk.
Listen, my love,
My thighs spread wide,
the tender flesh at my center,
bared, glistening with slick,
your fingers slipping over my skin,
as easy as wanting,
as wanting as breath.