Lucky

I wrote this tha other day. Because it's tha first poem that I've written in a long time that I've actually finished and liked, I thought I'd share it with ya'll. It looks long, but its really not, so don't be scurred.

LUCKY

Lucky

It was once said
That tha only reason
I had never met tha back
Of a boyfriends hand
Was simply because he had chosen
Not to introduce me
I was lucky
Unlike so many women
Landed face first
Into tha ridges of a lover's knuckles
Accidental
And shouldn't I be grateful
Not proud
To wear tha word "unbattered" like a badge
Across my intact face
For me,
There was never any decision to be made
No option to contemplate
Just tha merciful restraint
Of men who would string a necklace
Of bruises
Around my clavicle
At tha first opportunity
If I hadn't just been so fuckin' lucky

There is no place to stash a choice
Between skin and boning
Under tha corset of femininity
I'm supposed to cinch myself into
All tha better to keep my ribs
Unfractured and in their proper places
Hold my guts inside my body
Keep me propped upright
Doll-like
Incapable,
Only able to bind my daughters'
Masterfully crafted feet
For tha beauty of tradition
So that she, like me,
And every woman before her
Will never able to leave


I must understand
That it had nothing to do
With tha fact that
I demanded little more
For myself
From myself
And everyone else
Than respect
Not necessarily to be liked
Or even loved right
But to simply keep my face
In one piece
It had nothing to do
With me escaping into tha street
Long after midnight one morning
In tha midst of an argument
To avoid his anger
Nothing to do with being 18
And breaking up with my boyfriend
Because I recognized tha danger
In being called a bitch
Nothing to do with
Unanswered phone calls
And forever ignored voicemails
In tha days following
An incident in which a a male friend
Leaned in through my open driver's side window
So that he could properly wring my neck
I guess
I'm lucky
If only my clitoris
Were, instead a penis
I would have a say
As to how I should be treated
Only tha abuser has a choice
And it is enough
For tha rest of us
To simply wish
That he would decide
not to beat us
Lucky,
To dodge tha runaway wrecking ball
Of his fist
Not by ducking
But just by leaving
Before he has tha chance
To swing