Collective Unrest

 

survivor

November 28, 2018

TW for sexual assault

I never thought of myself as a survivor / just in the wrong place at the wrong time / don’t get in an elevator with someone who makes you uncomfortable, just take the stairs

his first kiss, my first sexual assault / go home smelling like the teenager I never was / like ferment, like July, like sin / my doctor asks if I’m sexually active and I say no / she says I didn’t think so / I didn’t think so either

my first boyfriend did things like drive 90 mph on I-80 / said want me to do it with my eyes closed? / my first boyfriend did things like fuck me anyway when I lied about a headache / so I learned ceiling patterns / counted the slats in the Venetian blinds / want me to do it with my eyes closed?

the first time a man who isn’t my father hits me it’s because I won’t say that I love him during a one-night stand / or maybe that wasn’t the first time / maybe the first time was when a man says makes me wonder what your childhood was like when I tell him it’s okay to hit me during sex / he slaps me so hard that I see white / but I don’t use the safeword

the first time with an older man is in a fast food parking lot / stomach swollen with silicone chicken, body trembles like cartoon jello mold always about to fall / insert laugh track / I don’t want this but he calls me so sexy so beautiful so gorgeous / so I pretend to want this

the first time I’m a victim, I say that I’m not / I say that it’s all just a misunderstanding

I never thought of myself as a survivor / I am over fifty percent star tissue scar tissue / I call it self-destruction

 

Rebecca Kokitus is a poet residing in the Philadelphia area. She is a student at West Chester University of Pennsylvania, where she studies English with a concentration in Writing. Her work has been published and is forthcoming in over a dozen literary journals. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram at @rxbxcca_anna, and you can read more of her writing on her website: https://rebeccakokitus.wixsite.com/rebeccakokitus. “Survivor” was previously published in Feminine Collective.

Please follow and like us:
Newer Post

Got My Ladder

I’d get the ladder, my dad said. Take it out of the garage, pull it past the garbage cans, through the gate, lean it against the front of the house, by the roses. Pack a picnic, fill the cooler with…
Read
Older Post

would

Click the link below to read "Would," a poem by Karen Shepherd Would by Karen Shepherd   Karen Shepherd lives with her husband and two teenagers in the Pacific Northwest where she enjoys walking in forests and listening to the rain. Her…
Read
Random Post

Night Shift Snack Break

I insert the coins into the money slot. Then, the small pack of soda crackers that is first in line gets betrayed by its comrade immediately behind: The latter pushes the former off the edge, and it plummets helplessly until…
Read
Random Post

17

When I was 17, my biggest concern was wondering when I could jerk off next, not thinking I’d have to convince jerk-offs why my math teacher shouldn’t have to trade their ruler in for a gun. When I was 17,…
Read
Random Post

When Broken Is Broken

At this point, the ground is a close companion. After countless fainting spells, it’s like hugging a friend you haven’t seen recently. My arms don’t work like they used to. These fingers can’t open jars, legs wobble under the same…
Read
Random Post

Last Rites at the Public Hospital's ER

That afternoon, I accompanied my cousin Dante, on his hospital wheelchair as we waited for a doctor to tend to his sprained ankle, when they wheeled in a 40ish man, half-naked, brown skin perforated with a dozen stab wounds, laid…
Read