It’s a Boy

he slit me, sliced with scissors, the meat of me

the doctor decided this between my feet

without request, as was his privilege

                                 when he saw you   crown

not wanting to think women are built for it

to bend and curl around obstacles

and impositions like liquid

   so you slipped through bloodied cut

into the stark room out of me and I would never be the same          

                                    was owned by you then

                      and then your father owned me too

and I told him

         I had never known this feeling

                                               didn’t know

                                                     it a thing possible

he smiled, believing

             a new confidence in him, a father now, told me

          if I ever tried

               to leave him

he would take you

                     and I would never see you again

later, that you’d be better off dead

if I divorced him, threat meant

                     or that he had all the money

would hire psychologists to say I was crazy

secure custody

        so, I stayed, of course, years

                                                    as he chipped away

but first        at six weeks

the O B stuck his finger in me

                                              said squeeze  

                                                                 gasped

wow          your husband has nothing to worry about

                                 he should be quite pleased    good girl


Originally published by Rat’s Ass Review.

Photo: 1989.