The truth is hard to listen to

The truth is

I was anxious about rape

way before my mom pressed her lips to the air

and told me about Grandpa Larry

Sometimes a person must die 

before part of their life

becomes a story

The truth is

hard to listen to

and hard to tell

My body is hyper-aware of contact

The truth is

the definition of rape is an ocean

that many tread water in 

I was excited about becoming a woman way before

my mother showed me how 

to shave my calves

the razor in contact with ankles 

scraping knee caps

never thighs or higher

I filled the tub with blush and excitement

with my girlhood

gone

I learned how to remove parts of me for others

I learned how to relish 

splatters of blood on porcelain

I learned how to grit teeth into a master piece

I learned that my blood is almost

a masterpiece

almost always 

a masterpiece

let it be 

genius and indescribable

when others want it to be

Rape is an ocean

that many tread water in

I was the last one on my basketball team

to remove the hair from my legs

in 7th grade

last to begin a cycle 

illuminated by moons 

and hushed like black skies

My body is an empty boat

sitting in those black waves

afraid of rocking 

I learned how to remove parts of me for others

My body was a naked empty boat

afraid of rocking