A Coveted Status

I was raised on a pedestal twelve hours straight
so attorneys could ask what I wore, what I drank

I had woken in (hush—off) white sheets
and seen no blood and sung
halleluja
an immaculate rape

I would be raised and light

painted around my head
would banish the shadows
from which I now have reason to cringe

I sought this veneration
of shamed skin & shivering bones
of throwing up behind a shrub
when a profile in the New Year’s crowd
matches his soul patch

I sought this glory
by walking at night, by leaving my drinks
uncovered, by having
this body

but all I had to do was have a friend
who is still a man

and will never be convicted or tried
of the crime that raised me so high
that bloggers believe me
and commenters say I deserved this

reverence