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What about me looks like I care
about men. I want my lover’s breast to choke me on its way to my heart. What about me makes you think I’d crave your day-old ego—man-wretch. Child-man. I want to grow away from this bench I was told to sit on ‘til I felt the brunt of G-d’s hatred in every inch of my fat. I wasn’t a thin boy. I wasn’t a woman the way I wanted a woman. Roll your neck as if the injury isn’t personal because the injury isn’t personal. Place an ad and answer it immediately. In the basement of my pleasure I was raped by every man who ever touched me. What do I mean. Can you stand to look me in the eye and ask me what exactly I mean. At the bottom of the book is a riddle: what happened to this child to make her into a confused little beggar: what happened to this little pervert then: what is happening now: In the basement of my memory I was raped by my _____. In the basement of my imagination I was shackled to the low table by my ________. In the basement of my shame I was under the actual boot of my ______. I want you to cause me pain I ask for and can understand. It’s a witch’s way of filling the basement with meadow. |
Elaina Ellis is the author of WRITE ABOUT AN EMPTY BIRDCAGE (Write Bloody Publishing) and the recipient of poetry fellowships from Lambda Literary, TENT, and Mineral School. She received an ArtistTrust GAP Award to complete her second collection, I'M ONLY PRAYING TO BELIEVE WHAT'S TRUE, which responds to the text and impulses of the biblical Book of Ezekiel. She earned her MFA at Antioch University Los Angeles, and lives in Washington State where she works at Copper Canyon Press.
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