Wednesday, November 4, 2009

314/2009: a poem in three parts--richmond gang rape.

 
 

Sent to you by moya via Google Reader:

 
 

via kameelahwrites by kameelah on 11/3/09

in response to the richmond, ca gang rape, i wrote this on october 31, 2009:

part I

when
rape is sport
unending spectacle

a uniform of purple sparkled dress, painted lips, silver shoes
their dark pants

pre-game brandy, hopeful for eternally spotless minds, flexible limbs,
and quiet forgiveness
tickets sold at the door
promises of discounts, special seating, prizes, and replays
"they said she was naked, and if you want to get fucked, go back there"

jeering audiences
insatiable and audible
in the bleachers
beneath bloodied heavenly skies
painted faces catch the light of the pink moon
in time for

the ritual

dilated eyes
stretched smiles/sneaky sneers
and furrowed skin leaves impressions in the dirt
(they are impressed)

crusted blood leads a trial back to somewhere back there
before that moment when

memories carved on her inner thighs
and battered belly
will she ever wear purple again?

"police received a call from someone in the area who had overheard
people at the assault scene 'reminiscing about the incident'"

we reminisce too.
we see ourselves slowly dying for 120 minutes.
under a pink moon
covered in the blood, semen, and saliva of unknown men
who may know us
and no one came to help.

not inevitable or slipshod lapses
they took snapshots
playback/flashback/slow motion
cameras to capture her catapult into hell
two hours

they collect
souvenirs from the carnival games
trinkets to pass on to cousins
playing cards with positions, players, and points
to exchange on facebook, myspace, texts

make a celebratory exit
but not before one last penetration
deep thrust
to add to their sunday morning story time
about how he fucked some nameless girl
at her homecoming dance
in her purple dress
on a saturday night
under the pink moon

"officers found the girl semiconscious and naked from the waist down
near a picnic table"
they report
a feast they had

the sport
with no discernible victor
because we have all lost.

part II (emily dickinson)

that sacred Closet where you sweep --
Entitled "Memory"--
Selected a reverential Broom--
And do it silently

(1273)

part III

she is
a devout
christian girl
who went to church three times a week
enrolled in honors english

and i asked myself
'would they care if she is...
a devout
something other than
who went to school three times a year
enrolled in GED classes because she got tired of school
would prefer smoking
to booking
still illiterate
had a baby on the way?
if she was PRECIOUS

would we care?

 
 

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