A three-part poem about sexual assault.
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The Human Sieve
I peer through the holes in the sheets, I poke my finger through, wiggle my thumb, wonder when we’ll all be done.
The places I reside in: Group therapy and recovery from sexual assault
When I think of my life, it splits into two sections divided by a thick line, a line made up of the hands of men who turned my life and me inside out: the before and after I was sexually assaulted.
Taboo
Forks scrape against plates and the word just hangs there Dripping.
Why breaking up with my partner was what I needed to do to recover
The story of my breakup begins on the morning of my first 8am glass of wine.
When I tell you my sister is abusive
Taking sibling abuse seriously
The quiet vulnerability of ‘thank u, next’
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