I worry and wonder
If I've stupidly succumbed to
The mother of all screwups.
HOLIDAY HOURS
Women's clinics should be like peep shows
With discreet private booths.
Instead I transgress a line of protestors
Who should be getting ready for Easter
If they're as Christian as they claim.
I give the finger to each and every one
And wait with weeping girls
Churlish, chastened boys
And a few disappointed mothers
To speak to a nurse counselor
About morning-afters.
You might have some cramping
, she says
And gives me a box of condoms
For
next time
Before running through some thought-provoking
questions
Are you safe at home?
Are you safe with your boyfriend?
Yes, I say
I would love to explain to her
That I felt so safe with Samir in my bed
That I never wanted to leave.
I wanted to pull the sheet over our heads
And cocoon us in that soft cotton world.
At the thought
My eyes fill with tears
Happy ones
But who can tell the difference?
So she says,
Is there anything else you want to talk about
?
MY LIFE
Yes, my life
I say
As if that provides adequate parameters
For the rest of my fifteen minutes.
The nurse only nods
Her pencil poised to record
Anything pertinent.
I only moved here last year, I say
And I went to a new school
And I thought things might be different
Better, but in fact
They were much, much worse.
I met this boy, Samir
And he was so special
And so right for me
And wrong
That my brain kind of frazzled
And thought it would be a good idea
To take a picture of my pussy
And turn it into art
To display at school.
I pause there
Giving the poor woman time
To write something down.
I heard of this case,
she says
That was you?
You were arrested, right?
I nod
And take a deep breath
Because I feel a little faint
Like my history is blood
And I'm pouring it onto the floor.
Another boy
David is his name
He put the picture on Facebook
And sent it to a younger friend
Who is a MORMON for God's sake
And would you believe
He wants to date my sister?
Anyway, his parents weren't impressed
Or people you want to trifle with.
I breathe again
I breathe
The threads of David and Samir
Tangling and untangling in my mind.
So that was bad enough, I go on
Then this girl, Genie
Took against me
I think she was jealous
Of the attention I was getting
Kids started writing on this wall
Messages of support and unity
I think I became kind of a folk hero
For about five minutes.
But Genie also had a thing for Samir
So she framed him
For a hate crime
And he was going to get arrested too
And everything I tried to do
To fix it
Only made it worse
So we thought we'd run away
But his father caught us together
And even though he was
Surprisingly understanding
I screwed it up again
And ran off
Because something came back
From my old life
And blew me to pieces.
I wait
Breathing
Blinking the stars from my eyes
I see
, the nurse says
And what was that?
DARKNESS
I feel sorry for her
Because I know she's imagining the worst
Some boy mashing me down
Behind a car
Outside a party
That kind of thing.
But before I open my mouth
And tell her what really happened
I remember only four people know
Mom, Dad, Kayli
And Samir, kind of.
I haven't even told David.
So instead I say
       My baby brother died
       When I was nine
The half-lie slips out
Slippery as a newborn seal
       It upsets me sometimes.
Upsets you?
She consults her notes
“Blew me to pieces,” you said
That sounds like a bit more than upset
Can you tell me more?
How did he die
?
It's easy enough to cry
Over the brother I never had
I only ever saw a photo
Of his tiny unfinished feet
My tears seem to satisfy her
So I don't explain.
There are only two women
I trust in the whole world
And she's not one of them.
TWO WOMEN
Mom
Because she bore me
She has to love me.
And Kayli
Because in the end
She needs me
As much as
I need her.
BUT BOYS ON THE OTHER HAND
Sometimes I think of David
With his cell phone
Snickering as he took a picture
And sent it to his friends.
I don't like the memory
It seemed so unlike him
The considerate boy
I know now.
What did he think
At that moment?
Did he think my art was a joke?
He apologizes repeatedly
For the catastrophe he unleashed on me
Until his remorse gets tiresome
But still I wonder at the impulse
That made him do it.
Like the impulse that Samir got
To reject me and take me back
Deactivate and reactivate our love
Like an email account.
I've told them I forgive them
And I think I do
But maybe that's just
A misguided impulse too.
MORE QUESTIONS
David asks
Are you ready?
I mean, are you sure?
He's worried about me because
He knows school is hard to endure.
And Mom says
We could finish the year at home
You'll pass your exams easily
She's worried about me because
She understands fragility.
And Kayli says
Try not to get arrested
Or cause another revolution
She's worried about me because
She's seen my trails of destruction.
And Dad says
Get on the bus and come to my office
Anytime you can't manage
He's worried about me because
He's the one who pays for the damage.
And I say to myself
Get it together this time, for real
High school is not brain surgery
I'm not worried because
Wellâ¦not really.
(SECOND) FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
I text Samir first thing
Public or private?
And get the answer I expect.
Private,
he texts
Because someone will blab
And
We'll
Be
Back
Where
We
Started.
Both God and Allah know
No one wants to be there.
And I too would rather avoid
The judgment
The gossip
The assumptions
The jealousy
And all the other
Bullshit
That high school
L.O.V.E.
Involves.
But still
It sucks that
Of all the things
Samir feels
For me
One
Has to be
Shame.
THE FREEDOM WALL
I find it
The Freedom Wall
Where my classmates
Recorded their outrage
The black scribbles have expanded
To cover the whole wall
A bucket of felt pens
Invites me to add my mark.
The school endorses the Freedom Wall now
With reservations:
No Swearing,
a small sign says
Someone has commented
fuck that
My body, my decision
Someone wrote
Ella Rocks
And someone else,
Ella Sux
And a third,
Who is Ella
?
Good question.
She's a bitch and a slut,
Someone answers
Helpfully.
Pretty sure I know
Who wrote that.
As for me
I barely remember being Ella
Barely remember anything
Before I was arrested
And charged
And acquitted for making pornography
Before my life fell apart
Before a piece of art
Reversed my
Rebirth and
Redefined me
Again
As Raphaelle.
THE CENTER PANEL
I still have it
That offending
Offensive
Photograph
Of the most
Intimate
Part
Of me.
I still love it
Like a Georgia O'Keeffe
Pink orchid petals
Hidden
In the back of my closet.
I still think
It's the best thing
I've ever done
And it was all worth it
Because of the Freedom Wall
Because of Samir
Because of David
None of that
Would have happened
If it wasn't for that little word
That starts with
C
.
Now I add
A curly Celtic
C
In the top left corner
Of the Freedom Wall
A bold varsity
U
In the top right
A scrolled
N
In the bottom left
A
T
like a crucifix
In the bottom right.
I don't sign my name
I'm wicked
Not stupid.
PRINCIPLES AND PRINCIPALS
I get called to the principal's office
Before the first bell even rings
And have to check the mental record
Of my recent history
Wondering if anything I've done
Warrants another expulsion.
My cornerstone embellishments
To the Freedom Wall?
My deflowering
Of a devout Muslim
On the mudroom stairs?
I would love to tell
Principal Pinch Face
The depths of my depravity
But he begins with a peace offering
Such as it is.
I'd like us to start fresh,
he says
As though you're just new at this school
And I know nothing of your record
.
My “permanent record”
I try not to smirk
Maybe the threats are all true.
Maybe that will never leave me.
Scarlet letters
AGITATOR
stamped on my forehead.
Traditionally
, he continues
The seniors plan a winter trip
This coming winter is New York.
We fundraise for about half the cost
And students contribute the rest
About a thousand dollars each.
It's his turn to smirk
As if saying
I dare you.
ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS
My parents could probably afford it.
But Pinch Face knows I'm proud
And knows there's 15 percent unemployment
In this college town
And knows how “difficult” I am
And that everyone knows it.
He has just done that thing
That bad teachers do
When they make it clear
They think you'll amount to nothing
But trouble.
I could tell him
To take his New York trip
And shove it up his ass
Because it will just be
A bunch of high-school kids
Taking tours and shopping.
On the other hand
I'm pretty sure
There's something
Greater
Waiting for me
In New York.
WORK
I try to imagine
What kind of job
I could do
What kind of employer
Would tolerate me.
I try to picture myself
In a blue fast-food uniform
Or Walmart smock
Or mowing lawns
Or bussing tables.
I try to think
Of a way
To earn a thousand dollars
Without breaking laws
Or losing my mind.
I try to steel myself
For the tedium
The pedantic boss
The dull-witted co-workers
The canned music.
I try to swallow
The humiliating thought
That one day
No matter how hard I try
I'll probably turn into my mother.
THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
In happier moments
I imagined my return to school
Like the end of a movie.
I imagined crowds of new friends
Drawn to me by notoriety
Wanting part of my famous wall
United in scorn against convention
Expectation and judgment.
I imagined the ones who sided with me
Gathering around cheering
Slapping me on the back
Maybe even laying palm fronds at my feet.
I imagined I would slip back into school
And find it finally fit me
Comfortable as a pair of worn pajamas
But more flattering.
In happier moments
I imagined a circle of girlfriends
Who didn't make me
Hyperventilate.
In darker moments
I pictured slinking in
Past the smokers
The gossiping girls
The leering boys