I remember that alley. The sidewalk was where my personhood was changed, my womanhood made. I was carved into that side street, slammed into the trash below me. I was cut by the corner of West 4th street and Jones. There was a lampost, a telephone pole, and a restaurant serving tapas. People passed, some stared, but it was your ultimate assertion that I was yours that drove away any savior I could have had. In your assertion, you reminded me that my place was amongst dirt, your hands gripping onto my thighs like a vice and your hot breath stinging my cheek. My place was under your heavy chest; my place was what you were entitled to before you even existed. That alley was just the location that you decided my place was no longer mine, it was yours.
June 27, 2016