Sonnet V, (the one with all the rape culture)


Wow, so the dino-erotica crown is turning out to be about rape culture. No one could have seen this coming. Just kidding. Anyone could have seen this coming, much like all of the allegations in the news this week which are a surprise to exactly zero people I know. To be fair, the first time I heard the Louis C.K. shit I was crushed. But I heard it maybe 2? years ago. If there's one thing we take our damn sweet time on, it's holding powerful men accountable. Anyway, I guess we can consider this sonnet an early congratulations to Roy Moore, who is mostly likely going to be elected Senator by the great people of the state of Alabama.

Happy Friday, everyone.



I am drunk, yes, on the wreck of your kiss
but haven’t I earned it? Haven’t I suffered
enough—another bruised peach in a man’s fist,
clutching my ripped skirt, forced to my battered
knees for forgiveness it wasn’t mine to need.
And so why shouldn’t I change what I am?
I’m done with the cowering virgin, born to plead,
any father’s daughter, another lamb
to be bartered, to be slaughtered on the altar
of a man’s greed. I am tired of being sacred,
sacrificial, baptized in that fetid water.
I choose foul, defiled. I choose profane,
to be your devoured, devouring cunt.
And why shouldn’t I, why shouldn’t I get what I want?



If you need to catch up with the sonnets, you can start here.