Trending »
Related »

CHOICES, A.K.A ADVICE TO THE ABUSER & POEM – NABILA LOVELACE

on April 24 | in Poetry | by | with No Comments

You decided,

to open up your hand and
decorate my cheek with fire. A
swift movement across the
face.

Your mistake:

i. not killing me,
ii. striking with bloomed digits as
if for fashion, or pimp instruction,
iii. not loving yourself enough to
value your life.

I come from a tribe of not so nice nice
women. Us women with islands on our
hips are everything but balanced.

My grandmother sharpened her
tongue, before splitting the longitude
of a man, seatbelt style, with only
her mouth on the lords day.

Be afraid. Me and my girls are an
unrelenting pack. Don’t open your
palm to the mosaic of roses; rake
a body made of thorns unless
you intend to burn the whole garden.

A word of advice,
when you start a battle with a
person who calls living surviving
a meridian spanned war.
If you intend to strike, kill—
or keep your damn hands
away.


 

CHOICES: A response to the video “Leave Whores Alone! This video is only for men! Women, watch at your own risk!” by Manhood U

Many men love whores…a woman cannot be a whore without your support.

 

My womanhood and I have separated,
now owned by the male estate.
Climbed out in search of unused
holy and, knee-dropped to the
male whore Gods,

pressed her lips together

whispered for
redemption at
the gates—

got a farce forgiveness.
Glory be to the man who said

…Men are dogs, and
dogs do not lay down with
cats or bears, but bitches so
women have bitch tendencies.

You, and the ones like you,
are who I make Molotov of mouth,
slingshot of skin for,
a gutter bank of your laptop.

Whore: Uncle,
backyard entrance of my body
billowed breath on nape of neck
fell in love with girl—
no trace of women’s red.

Whore: my Aunts house,
shiver under husbands bludgeoned
hands. Slurred stance made
retired holiday of her joy, made
broken window of her body.

Whore: me whispering my name in
a sweat lined room to tell my limbs,
this is what it feels like to say YES.
It is not the cold blitzing under your nightie for warmth,
not the prayer finally skidding across the wrist

This is free.
It is my skin disguised as flight, buffer-less,
voice melting out to silk.

Whore: telling my niece’s beautiful
that it need not hide, never run
from the jackals clenched jaw—
salivating snare. Tell her,
you are so much free,
you do not owe the half ribbed;
the ones who will call you whore
after gouged holes in your
screams, stories and “stop”s!

There is a whole planet for us—
women with the wild eyes &
the legs that spread under
roof, sky, holy yes.
This is how I praise dance,
how I tell myself:

When ALL the boys tried to write
their names on you,
through guilt,
through knife
through walk in rain in same clothes,
through pin-down,
through gripped-arm,
through penetration.
You got up
& walked
& said
This is mine, mine, mine.

 

headshot, Nabila LovelaceNabila Lovelace is a born and raised Queens native, as well as a first generation American. Her parents hail from Trinidad and Tobago and Nigeria. She is a recent graduate of Emory University, and a winner of the 2013 Poets & Writers Amy Award. Currently she is living in Nanjing, China as a participant of the 2013-2014 AYC program. In her spare time she likes to eat Chocolate Chip cookies, and drink milkshakes.

Pin It

Related Posts

« »

Recent Posts

News

Safia Elhilo

2 Poems

Michele Robinson\'s Art [...]

Let Me Straddle Your Mind

X.J. Kennedy

The Crusader

Why did you leave bring m [...]

Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back it was important to me and

Kwame Dawes

Kwame Dawes

BEFORE YOU – Kwame  [...]

1 Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun shacks, where the road loses its way to dirt and live oaks

MENSTRUAL FLOWERS – [...]

[new_royalslider id="11"] Courtesy of the artist and Mizuma Art Gallery  

WHAT THE WOMB ISN’T [...]

         "Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leav

JUNOT DIAZ

Junot' Diaz and Edison, NJ

EDISON, NEW JERSEY – [...]

The first time we try to deliver the Gold Crown the lights are on in the house but no on

Rachel Eliza Griffiths [...]

Elegy & Poem

The March on Washington:  [...]

OTHER WORLD: A Conversati [...]

"We are all the other."

I OPEN A BOX

…and find inside a picture, of myself as a child, sitting on a small chair, wearing overalls and sho

Naive Paintings

Raphael Perez

CIRCLES OF THE MOON & [...]

To Alex, on turning two Some say the Ring of Brogar is the Circle of the Moon. There is n

In This Issue

March on Washington An Interview with Cheryl Evans

5 POINTZ: GRAFFITI MECCA  [...]

In a strange twist of what seemed like reverse vandalism, the Graffiti Mecca was painted over.

In This Issue

Forest Gander A Translation

In This Issue

Quassan Castro, poem Grandson to Grandmother

URBAN CANVAS: Wynwood Wal [...]

Wynwood Walls, of Miami has been called "a Museum of the Streets."

Pulaski Skyway

Low like the mean dream of Newark the sky must have seemed to its builders. Rickety now, unhinging, I

THE SPAN & OTHER POE [...]

At last, the extremes of his present methods seemed to offer the happiest avenues. The strengthening

Paul Latorre

5th Limb Poems

Joan Larkin

Poem, Knot

Gina Loring, Def Poetry [...]

Poem, Look This Way

In This Issue

Xue Du, Poem

AT THE END OF THE DREAM I [...]

A woman      in a black kimono      dyed black hair disappeared      behind a black curtain I

Marge Piercy

Poem: Behind the War On Women

Naive Paintings

Raphael Perez

Marie Miazziotti -Gillam [...]

Maria Mizzotti-Gillan

Vicky Dantel

Short Story

In This Issue

Pilar Fraile Amador poem

Quassan Castro

Poem

Lugensky Durosier [...]

Lady Haiti

In This Issue

David Trinidad

In This Issue

Landzy Theodore

In This Issue

Angelo Nikolopoulos

Scroll to top