I walked into the hot sweat June room, thick with the drip of pheromones
Loud convoluted tones of sedated seduction.
It was a production with a cast of contrasting players,
Playing each other for prey,
And there I was, an easy piece of bait, waiting to be slayed,
Praying that he wouldn’t enter those doors.

So many times in the months before had I sounded that word out in my head
The word that bred dread as I threaded the parts of my story together
I’ll confront him, I’d told my therapist.
I’m a feminist after all, right? I’ll stand up with my own might.
But the night I almost did it, when I almost told him of his sins,
He shuttered at the thought of the possibility,
A lone leaf left shuttering on the decaying tree of possibilities.
With one word, I could ruin his life.
But I am a feminist after all, right?

Rape. It’s like a tapeworm that enters and burrows,
Burrows into the deep furrows of your worrying eyebrows
Rape. It’s just a word.
Rape. Rapist. It shapes the monster in your mind for you.

A few months ago I found out my older brother’s best friend was accused of rape.
In the papers it said that he had took her by the neck,
The papers shaped the monster for me;
The same little boy who’d shared toys with me transformed
The same little boy who’d built the fort in the woods with me, who’d sang to my family,
Who’d simply accepted the task of taking care of his sickly mother.
To others he was a blatant rapist.
To me, what others said about him was blatantly heinous.
Who was the monster here?
But I am a feminist, am I not?

He did walk in. He did walk in on that early summer evening,
He walked in like a silent toxin,
Intoxicating me with memory
You cannot bury the stop and the no,
But how, in actuality, did it really go?
When did I say it? And how?
With one word, I could ruin his life.
But I am a feminist after all, right?
I grew up in a society learning to be both submissive and provocative,
We fall in, then we crawl out, screaming.

I walked out of the fog of sweat on that June night,
Right after he looked at me with no recognition in his eyes.
Why start a battle when I am the only one who sees the war?
What is this word for in this circumstance other than to cause pain to all?

I watch as that little boy, who used to play in the sprinklers with me years ago
Falls down the rabbit hole of empty opportunities.
The trajectory of his life falls exponentially downwards.
With words I can ruin. With a word, I can ruin.
But I chose not to.

I was a feminist, wasn’t I?