Poem: A Sleeping Bag Can Be A Body Bag. #StopKavanaugh
“I thought he might inadvertently kill me.”
– Christine Blasey Ford
TW: Sexual assault
I wrote this poem today about my sexual assault when I was 18 on a college camping reforestation trip. The events of the Supreme Court nomination process, the behaviour of a potential Supreme Court justice Brett Kavanaugh has triggered me a lot, and I feel it’s so important to remind people how soul crushing these acts are. How much I feared I might die in the desert. How long this has haunted me.
You can listen to my reading of the poem, or read it yourself below.
Contents can be a corpse, a blow up doll
small neck you throttle without remorse.
Some sleeping skeleton you find to fall
atop inside a darkness, desert. Force
your way — “so wet” you say as if it seems
okay despite the crying, desperate
midnight, choked supplications of something
you dragged across the dirt, asleep — you shake
to open, hurt them maybe bury with
an animal, striped tiger, different
so-far-away-in-Texas boy’s last gift
to someone sent to Utah — wed, repent.
A feminist, three new female friends said,
and what’s below you wonders am I dead?