Rape Poem

¡Hola! Everybody…

I am running very late and I have to be on my way to the women’s prison workshop. Later in the evening, I also run my men’s’ group. I’ll be scarce.

I always trot out the following poem when I get into my domestic violence/ violence against women rants. It is a powerful piece and the same can be applied to all manner of oppression women experience on a daily basis…

Have a great day!

* * *

-=[ Missoula Rape Poem ]=-

by Marge Piercy


There is no difference between being raped
and being pushed down a flight of cement steps
except that the wounds also bleed inside.

There is no difference between being raped
and being run over by a truck
except that afterwards men ask you if you
enjoyed it.

There is no difference between being raped
and losing a hand in a mowing machine
except the doctors don’t want to get involved,
the police wear a knowing smirk,
and in small towns you become a veteran whore.

There is no difference between being raped
and being bitten by a rattlesnake
except that people ask if your skirt was short
and why you were out anyway.

There is no difference between being raped
and going head first through a windshield
except that afterwards you are not afraid of cars
but of half the human race.

Fear of rape is a cold wind blowing all of the time
on a woman’s hunched back
Never to stroll alone a sand road
through pine woods;
Never to climb a trail across a bald
without that aluminum in the mouth
when I see a man climbing towards me.

Never to open the door to a knock
without that razor just grazing the throat.
The fear of the dark side of the hedges,
the back seat of the car,
the empty house rattling keys like a snake’s warning.
The fear of the smiling man
in whose pocket is a knife.
The fear of the serious man
in whose fist is locked hatred.

* * *

Love,

Eddie

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