Poem: A Popular Website Puts up a Poll Asking if a Journalist is Responsible for Her Rape

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
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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