These Things That Happen Never Happened At All

So it goes - these poems, all pieces from a larger body of work, have been selected by the wonderful Humber Literary Review for publication in their Fall 2024 issue. When I wrote “These Things That Happen Never Happened At All,” I felt a need to expose the darkness behind certain derogatory words aimed at women; how they land, and what they mean, and the memories that come along with them.

These Things That Happen Never Happened At All

1.

tough bones, translucent
teeth, pale with thin hair, greasy
slight skin, just like me

2.


in my dreams
he was tall, and moved
his arms wide
skinny but strong
clothes baggy and hanging
from his wiry frame

he had experience
a crackling voice
*whiny, but not high pitched

|assertive, maybe
to me anyways
I believed him, believed in him|

we would traipse down the street
and I’d feel safe, even at night
only because he let me

and even though his fingers were long
his body was warm, still a boy, crooked lips
cloud-like complexion

and even now
he exists somewhere in limbo
waterbed waving
leaving cricks in the necks
oh yes, of even us young ones

3.

when she was thirteen she thinks she maybe  kissed a boy and when she did he held onto her face firm but soft and it thrilled her she could taste the pot smoke in his mouth and smell the urine rising from the back alley stoop they stood on she felt so small as he backed her into the corner he eclipsed her she could no longer see the light of the fairground when he pressed into her she felt his cold fingertips graze her bare abdomen as he slipped the hole of her jeans loose from its button it was then she broke away from his lips looked down gently took hold of his wrists and pushed him back it was then he began to laugh first softly then madly called her a     slut     and walked off shaking his head and she was left alone in the dark