Tragedy revisited

*A re-imagination of an old poem a poetry teacher once ruined.*

*Content warning for dysphoria related to bad sexual experiences*

Before:

I only wanted him for his body

That was the bitter irony of it.

That his feet danced with the grace of gazelles

And I could not move my own leaden feet

Stuck in the muck to reap what I had sewn.

Durring:

It did feel good, there’s no reason to lie

About that. In the shower, on the bed.

Before:

I was a good dancer, but not as good

as I thought. I was so sure on my own 

Two feet and my own lips fit on my face

Exquisitely. I owned the dance floor with

A single twitch of my infallible feet.

After:

Well, wouldn’t he like to know what it was like?

Durring:

He pulled out and immediately I knew

Something was wrong. 

After:

He looked worried, so of course I comforted him.

Because I was so used to being strong I couldn’t imagine it any

Other fucking way.

He never gave me the money for the

Plan B he oh-so-kindly offered.

Durring:

The thing that really gets me is 

I didn’t do anything

Wrong. We used a condom.

Put it on right and everything.

Before:

I decided I didn’t want to be on birth control any more.

My reasons went thusly: I mostly had

Gay sex, and if I was going to have

Penis in vagina sex I would just

Use a condom. I just felt so crumby

On the birth control pills I had been taking.

After:

I was fine for the day and then the next day I got miserably sick.

Threw up

In the morning. Left 

Two of my classes early. Didn’t show up entirely to another.

Cried. And 

cried. Contemplated calling my mom. Calling my best friend. Calling anyone.

Drank a lot of tea and didn’t

Eat anything

At all.

After:

The nurse said it was just a stomach bug. 

My blood-work, weeks later said I was std free.

The pregnancy test that I took in the 

Bathroom at the public library read 

With a minus sign. I never told my mother.

After:

Months later, I skip my period because of the new birth control I’m on.

In a way, it’s a relief

Because every time I see blood stain my underwear

I still think of him.

I remember how I felt so empty and so full

At the same time.

Durring:

I felt so empty and so full at the same time.

Before:

I knew exactly where I was putting my feet.

After:

It takes almost half a year before I can keep my balance when I see him.

After:

My next sexual partner is slow and gentle and checks in constantly.

As are the next two after that. 

It feels good to have hands on me again.

After:

I go back to dancing quickly.

He couldn’t take that away from me.

Eight months of dancing around the country later, 

I am a better dancer than him.

After:

Ten moths later I learn to blues swing.

It is like dancing and sex all at once and standing up.

Ten months later I move on my feet like they are mine again.