Today's poem is by Katie Berta

After I was raped the second time, I lost forty pounds
       

and everyone began congratulating me. Men, previously ambivalent
unless coercive, became lascivious. I watched reruns
of The Biggest Loser every day. I saw the lines of my face deepen
and became convinced that though I used to believe I had a pretty face
and an ugly body, the opposite was true. I had sex with the man
I would marry and cried afterward, told him I believed this
was a function of my breath, and I believed that. I couldn't remember
anything. I ran until I destroyed my knees and couldn't run anymore.
I ate a whole microwave-in-the-bag bag of broccoli for dinner,
with a little grated cheese sprinkled. I believed I was descending
into nothingness. I descended into nothingness. I used my iPhone
to disassociate—and to take selfies. My jawline was impeccable,
my cheekbones, razor-sharp. Everyone compared how I was then
to how I was before then. The other day, I saw a picture of what
was my arm. Like the tiny bones you excavate from the pellet
of an owl, the bones of a mouse.

Copyright © 2024 Katie Berta All rights reserved
from retribution forthcoming
Ohio University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission