I. The Hearings

My best friend and I were raped

by the same guy, which feels like a fucked

up, college girl’s version of a blood bond,

only there was nothing sacred about it.

And I feel guilty for not doing more

to stop him from raping someone else

and she feels guilty for not asking me

more questions when it happened

and why do we as women take 

the blame for what isn’t our mess?

And he told her she was the best

he ever had, so I guess he has

a fantasy about girls sobbing “no”

while he fucks the life out of them

because I remember laying there like

I was lifeless when it was me.

And maybe I should’ve let my ex-

boyfriend punch him when he

wanted to, but now I have a feeling

that it wasn’t because I was breaking

but because you took something

that my boyfriend believed to be his.

All I know is every time I see

Kavanaugh’s face, I see yours

and every time they question her

or mock her, it’s like they’re saying

my name instead and I feel the

anger down to my fucking bones.

II. Kavanaugh Confirmed

My rapist keeps a list of every

girl he’s ever fucked, and I

wonder if I’m on it or if there’s

a separate list for girls like us.

And I’m sorry if this is blunt but

there was nothing subtle about you

forcing yourself inside me.

And there was nothing subtle about

Kavanaugh’s calendar and cavalier lies

or the women outside the Senate,

handcuffed, dressed as handmaids,

and being forced into cop cars,

made powerless once again.

Dr. Ford, being assaulted 

with questions over and over again. 

Me, crying in front of a confused

group of men and

every woman I know,

breaking.