Poem

Here, I give my body to you.

but is my body mine?
And to give?

could I have any entitlement
when my body is writ
with the rules of the father;
the blood that runs in your veins
bring power and glory
mine begs to be washed off
with cheap detergent
early in the morning,
lest anyone knows that I bleed
through the openings of life.

if I ask you to not enter my body
could you imagine
a love without violence?

what will you do with my body?
with me?