The one poem I didn’t submit

I wrote this for the Basta! Anthology and I didn’t submit it because at the time it was too personal for me. A couple years later, I enjoy the discovery of how our vaginas are their own characters and the connection I was able to capture.

Sabía que mi vagina tenía dos emociones felicidad y dolor physica pero no sabía que ella sabía cómo llorar…

My vagina knew great joys and pain, physical pain

but I didn’t know that she knew how to cry.

I never acknowledged her pain-her cry.

I thought that sting was my heartbreaking.

One night in a fury of throwback blames-claims-and-long-dead-skeletons.

I broke and cried.

As if a rifle was up in my pussy I felt

the shot not in my chest

but in her-my vagina

was crying with me.

All these years

that I gave n came for this or that man

I thought I was alone,

I thought it was me who was leaving them

and growing strong while leaving.

It was right there on my bed, her with me

suddenly I wasn’t alone.

I had a witness to my pain.

At that moment, she and I were one and I was not alone.

I stopped crying because I didn’t want to cause her more pain.

Then the pain of betrayal of the words come from the man who

Had given her so much love.

We became one.

And we hugged.

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