T
he first time I died I was 7.
You sat on your front steps
Legs spread
Dead eyes staring at me
As you said
Oops, my peenie fell out. around your ankles
Saying, Look what you did.
As if your erection was my
Responsibility. The check you wrote
Folded in my jacket pocket.
But pussy has 9 lives. But pussy has 9 lives. The fifth time I died I was 21.
You were on top of me, heavy,
unmovable,
Breathing hotly in my ear,
You’ve never said no to me be-
fore. The eighth time I died I was 35.
No one could see the evidence
Silent treatments leave no marks
Insults leave no marks
Denigration leaves no marks
Orders leave no marks
Isolation leaves no marks
Control leaves no marks
Emotional abandonment leaves
no marks
Misogyny leaves no marks.
The second time I died I was 13.
You looked at me too long
Held the hug too close
I told my mom you made me
uncomfortable
Her dismissive reply, Oh, he’d
never!
But pussy has 9 lives.
The third time I died I was 16.
You were 28.
A man among boys
You left me after one night,
scarred
And with an STD.
But pussy has 9 lives.
The fourth time I died I was 20.
You sat on the couch, pants
But pussy has 9 lives.
The sixth time I died I was 21.
You pushed me
The skin of my open palms
Left on the asphalt.
But pussy has 9 lives.
But Pussy has 9 lives.
I have one left and it is mine.
But pussy has 9 lives.
The seventh time I died I was 23.
The small table, bright lights,
unfamiliar faces
My hands clammy as the cold
speculum spread me
The whir of the machine tugging
at my insides
About the Author
Jessica Johnson is a freelance journalist, blogger, and poet who
writes for and about passionate people following their dreams.
She has two blogs: vinegar and vanilla where she blogs about
her journey as a writer and enCOURAGEr of other women who
want to give life to their dreams and live a life of bravery and
purpose, and Dreams in French where she brings you a taste
of French joie de vivre (a zest for life!) no matter where in the
world you are.
jessicajanisjohnson.com
vinegarandvanilla.com
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