and yes and yes and yes wins, oh yes,
a win thinner than the waning crescent moon
is still a bruise
on the arms or the chest of no
on the hair or the eyes of no
on remembering, on dreaming, on waking
no
has been held down by yes
again, again
and still it's no's bruise
yes isn't even asked
to take ownership
with victory
yes, I've been no
on a hotel bed—not public
not at work
just sick
yes says
I could've stayed home
I loved him, yes
after, briefly, until I taught myself to forget
love, yes
and left the country
and all I want to do is trace these yes IPs
find the people behind the yes hands
and make the bruises theirs
and maybe this is the worst
that yes has done to me
by forcing me beneath
and I've taught myself
too not to care
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