By Elizabeth Harper

I couldn’t turn my back
and I couldn’t fix it
Story of my life
lame excuse
Quixotic tale
striving for virtue
in a sewer

Do the best you can
Clean up the mess
Show up the next day
Clean up again

No one can see you
except the ones who can
Some see your talent
The ones who need you
see your usefulness

You are calculating
manipulative for sure
bargaining for freedom

To be dismissed as
dumb cunt token
maid good daughter
bad daughter good
wife lousy wife

Tell the truth
Get dismissed as
a complainer
Make your mark
grateful for the
opportunity
Know your place
Don’t challenge
the status quo
But if you don’t
what are you there for?

Couldn’t fix it
before and after
Couldn’t name it
What do names matter?

The rapist has his version of the story
The winner has his version of history

In the background in a footnote
resistance effort questions sacrifice

To survive by any means necessary
no purity no freedom
Complicity is a privilege you gag on
like the dick you suck on
to pay the rent
to live in your own skin