Resume of Faults
Conversation grates like cheese. Relentless
it is the skin off her knuckles. Pried
from muscle and bone. Sinews
mingle with the meal.
She fought far too long.
He asks, “how you want me to fuck you?”
she escalates the lewd nature of her response:
“your big cock in my wet pussy,” “choke me on your dick
make me drink all your hot cum,” “i’m your fuck slut.”
Never: Please, with feeling.
Disconcerted by rustling of loved ones in her home
repetitively her mind protests loudly, slam the door once.
Finally. Even if left empty. At least I can breath.
Searching as she cuts. Reveal
with a razor. Got too close
sliced a clean line tracing her clit.
Amongst mounds of gray-brown folds
the blood shock of pain the
only thing she found beautiful.
He said, “You have faults
you need not add to your resume.”
Her pride in tow she could only assume
he was right.
(The Cry of a Gazelle When it is Hunted Down and Trapped)
( The Hunter)
I chose you from where you stood, for womanhood.
Plucked pretty femininity because I could, for womanhood.
Blood of virgin chalice waters wanton desire
First communion of loneliness is desire's food, for womanhood.
Disrobed and made ready for worship, consent conceived of immaculate
Mary allow me close if you would, to womanhood.
Seize what is sacred destiny, trinity, stolen identity
Withstand protestations of rapture from tears to flood, for womanhood.
Perversions, like firecracker, exploited for the divine
Remnants confess revulsion and remorse left for good, for womanhood.
Lord is it for this, I begged, I yearned and pined, for mankind?
Fantasy built casket for innocence before it died, for mankind.
Body alter delicately desecrated, bruised and rampaged
Prostrated supine in sacrifice resigned, for mankind.
Dowry of wreckage, corpses, a legacy of carrion
Moonlight marriage made modern bride, to mankind.
Fissured skin, soul, spirit from the schism bleeds an aubade
Impregnated with your crime implied, for mankind.
Flames, like firecracker, ignite profundity amongst ash
Violent death's will birth our union's singular pride, for mankind.
Martyr and bastard prove that lust lied, for the child.
Encapsulates indignity rapist confide, for the child.
Steeple of impurity, invocation with impunity, original sin
Implores youthful indulgence best abide, for the child.
Alternatively Cain, sibling slain, progenitor of evil
Contempt born for Eve even better exiled, to the child.
Together nomads, troubadours of lands, beyond Eden
Perform with pressed palms and psalms prayer reviled, for the child.
Spectacle, like firecracker, intercedes upon mourning and celebration equally
Infant ensures triumph in my tomb denied, for the child.
Oil-well Head Sings of Sorrow by Agholor Leonard Obiaderi
Anna Saini has lived many lives as a political scientist, radical activist and multi-media artist. She completed a B.A. in Political Science from the University of Toronto and a M.A. in Public Policy and Administration from McMaster University. She has worked as a community organizer on issues of drug and education policy reform, women’s abuse issues, police brutality, and labor rights. Her writing appears in Bitch Magazine, make/shift Magazine, various journals and in her self-published anthology Colored Girls. She is interviewed by Jessica Yee in the book Feminism FOR REAL: Deconstructing the Academic Industrial Complex of Feminism! She has self-published on her blog www.hersight.wordpress.com since 2006.