God, did you watch it happen?

When they took my skin from me did you watch?

My Photo

God,
do you mind if I call you that?
Is it blasphemous to say your name
if I say it three times will you show up
in my mirror to convince me
not to do what I was going to do?

Did you think of me
when your hands supposedly
made women, us like clay
borrowing ribs from men
so we’re always a part of them
leaving a piece forgotten from him
to create she, did you mean
to have us preceded by men?

Mean for us not to have a voice
did you want to pluck my cords
that had been vocal about
what happened to me?
Did you watch what he did to me?
Then what the other man,
there was another man,
and another man again,
scent changing on my skin
bruises blooming like flowers
on my paleness to see
how I had fought them
despite my lack of strength,
was I supposed to call on you,
oh, dear god, for more?