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The Nameless Poem

It wants to be written
wills the pen to move
like a bad habit
all pent-up
and filled with anxiety
it wants to tell everything quickly
say it once
and get it over with
spill the secrets
a glass of milk that shatters
from the pressure
of the hand
the hand that moves
even now 
to say Stop
You've gone too far


The woman who writes this poem
is frightened and doesn't know why
she pulls the shades
in the afternoon
she locks the windows
at night
spends weeks without makeup
her hair slicked back
in a knot 
to fool the rapist outside
she knows she is beautiful
simple and complete
like a chinese pea-pod
she doesn't want men
to desire her honest face alone
remembers little of the girl she was
the fear of exposure
the man behind the curtain
that is the secret
that will find her
and catch her
it will do her in.

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