From the top of the stairs
you will smirk with him
at how deserving I am
to tumble down head over heels
instead of on my knees for him.

Stepping over me out the door
you will chuckle with him
at the irony of my own blood in my mouth
instead of what he would have given me
if I’d gone down on my knees for him.

Rolling off him after your turn’s done
you’ll laugh out loud with him
at my stupidity lying for hours where I fell
when I should have known my proper place
pushed down on my knees to him.

You think you have not been there already.
That’s why you get it. The punchline.
The twist of what you think to be humor.
The way he unzips his wit, just for you.
You may be right. You’ve not been there
on your knees where he pictures you,
or you’d know it to be no joke,
no comedy, no metaphor, no nothing,
nothing short of crude. Cruel crude.

After you get back up, I won’t need
to show you the scars on my hip and knees
for you to know why I don’t smile, won’t wink.

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One Response to Crude

  1. maggie says:

    This struck a deep chord in me like the sympathetic vibration of a fine wine glass to a clear voice’s pure note.

    No woman – NO woman – should ever have to be treated so. Not spoken of so. Not even thought of so. If we smirk along at seeing it aimed at a rival or enemy of ours, we too easily forget that some other woman was cheering it on and applauding when it was us it was done to.

    I agree with you, that it’s inconceivable that any woman who has been victimized in such a way might ever forget it enough to shurg dismissively about the next one in line.

    And always remembering that mirror you mounted on your wall from the first, I send you the warmest hugs for what I know this means for your work on your feelings for her ex. Just because she’ll never be your friend, and just because she’ll never grant you the same respect, and just because she deserves to have her own curses bent back on her own self, none of that should hinder your own peace and generosity.

    L, m

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