i taste blood on my lips when i kiss you my hands, sticky crimson
grasp at your lapels
pleading for attention,
for compassion —
it is between my thighs
behind my eyes
on my wrists
my neck
all the places your mouth should rest murmuring gentle words
kind words
are dripping now with red
it is not my blood that coats, but theirs those who were stolen
those who were shot
those who resisted
those who could not
those who protected
and those who could do more than close their eyes and pray
for what greater crime is there
than to be a woman
alive
breathing
whole
in the land that flows with chalav and d’vash?
but milk is meant to heal
and honey just as sweet
so when you stand before me
arms open wide, warm, safe
forgive me for pulling back.
forgive me for saying no.
because the faces of those girls
children
adults
elderly
have become the canvas of my closed eyelids and i know
that i will taste their blood on my lips when i kiss you –
Miri Selengut
