I practice saying “no”.
I watch my flat upper lip
fold under the other one
and I wonder what about me
felt so unavoidable.
I rehearse in the mirror
I measure the widening of my eyes
I say it again. I say it louder.
Still sometimes, my ribs get
caught on the inhale —
I force breath through my throat.
And so I push back my hair
and pull my hands off my face
and I say it again.
I say it again and again and again
until my fingers turn red against the sink.
Because I can’t remember my body
the last time it was mine.
Photo by Ashley Byrd on Unsplash