by Melissa Connelly
I went against the body like a
breakfast for champions gone
uneaten, fork scraping eggs
into a trashcan.
I went against the body
with a blade and saw
myself, floating, formed
another person.
I went against the body
and let men self-castrate
inside me, a stabbing.
I went against the body,
succumbing to melancholy,
suspended grief.
I went against my body,
went up to her, grabbed
her hand and squeezed.
Brushed shoulders,
whispering,
Be beside me, myself.
Be with me.
***
Melissa Connelly is a lesbian poet, archivist, and art historian whose work explores mortality, mental health, and memory through a feminist lens. She aims to record her life from the perspective that "the personal is political." She holds master's degrees in art history and poetry, and she currently lives in France where she studies antiquarian books.
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