After Jan Beatty
its three hours after you said you would call & I am stranded in a pizza shop waiting like the home wrecker I am, trying to remember what color train runs from cambridge to dorchester & it’s the night of her birthday & I’m waiting for her to leave so I can come over & have the shit fucked out of me & I told my friend I’m staying at a ‘high school friend’s house’ & it was the only way he’d leave me alone at the pizza shop & I didn’t tell him I’m actually going to dorchester at 10pm to get fucked by a man twice my age he hates & he’s already spent an hour talking about the young girls you fuck & how they say no & how you go for it anyway & I’m tight & my head is an anchor & I can’t help but agree & I’m alone in the pizza shop & about to call this quits when you text me & then I’m a kitten again & I’m on the train, purring & heat & in an hour I walk into what’s left of a party you offer me cake celebrating her & wine, which I take & drink until my body is humming & in no time its midnight thirty & you’re worried you can’t keep your hands off me so you kick all your guests out the house & then its my body in your bed & my jeans are off with one hand & you are already in my mouth & my legs are crossed & I am looking at all your veins & you’ve flipped me on my stomach now & your breath is alive on my neck & in my ear & you bite my shoulder & your teeth drag into my back & my legs uncross & I’m so wet its embarrassing & my shirt is off & its all skin & pounding & vein & my friend’s words in the pizza store are a machine gun in my head & I’m thinking about the other young girls you fuck & if they’ve said no & your hand is ripping open my thigh but I do not stop you b/c I want this & sex with you should be painful & you ask you ok? & I moan & this means yes & you ask do you want me to stop & I say no & press your hands harder to my throat b/c I don’t want to think & my mind is always running & people think this is beautiful but it’s a nightmare, really & I just need to turn my head off & your hands are all the way around my throat & your dick is all the way inside me & there is no air anymore & for a second all the thoughts are gone & this is the closest I am to cumming & my body is open & please & please & please & please & please
& you let go too early & all the thoughts are back & I think of how you can’t be owned & the young girls who may or may not have said no & I’m tight again & dry & I am an anchor & there is so much rot in my body & you keep fucking me but I’ve already left & as far as I’m concerned, my clothes are already on & I’m more with the lamp than with you & you are close & your nails are in my shoulder & you have me pinned down & I can’t move & I’m thankful b/c I don’t know what I would do if I could & my body is just an echo now but you don’t realize b/c you weren’t paying attention anyway & I don’t hate you but I think I should & I don’t feel anything & you are moaning in my ear & I am thinking of the poems I will read tomorrow b/c they save me & of how I wish your room was better decorated & you say you love me & pull out & cum across my stomach but everything is desert & anchor & I start laughing & you smile at me because you think its for you & it never will be & you might never know that & isn’t that just hilarious.
© Fatimah Asghar
SOME OTHER WORKS OF THIS POET:
- Look, I’m Not Good At Eating Chicken.
- If They Should Come for Us
- Main Na Bhoolunga
- Super Orphan
- Ode To The Brazillian Wax
- Ways I Am Tired
- Smell Is the Last Memory to Go
- I Don’t Know What Will Kill Us First: The Race War or What We’ve Done to the Earth
- For Jonylah Watkins, Who Was Shot 5 Times While Her Father Was Changing Her Diaper
- From “Oil”