I wrote a poem that also functioned as a letter to the man who sexually assaulted me in 2015. The poem is confrontational and accusatory, but it will never be sent to him. I saved money to take the fabric to Richmond, Virginia because that is where this happened to me. I brought it in my old house, and outside of my bedroom where I was sexually assaulted. I brought the object up the staircase and outside of my old bedroom. I asked for the support of a friend to help hang it there. We left it for one hour. Then I brought the fabric back home to Atlanta.
the fabric reads,
well, i well survived taking my own
life, damn. i damn alive and have died thrice
damn, you damn- you
[waiting till i was asleep to fuck?]
damn.
and i damn still lived after you, damn.
it damn don’t kill me to be killed, damn.
but you must hadtuh to feel
damn itty bitty
damn less than a human if you could treat anybody else
damn less than human, damn.
baby i saw your woe;
you damn in love with death. damn fucking
damn death till you damn come [i hope you get off]