At night, I take
to the streets,
unable to breathe
between sheets
I wash but
can’t clean and
the concrete gleams
with rain, lit up with
the orange glow of
street lamps aligned
in a row on a road
I find myself
wandering
without aim.
I said no to him,
over and over,
as though repetition
would alter the
rhythm but his friends
said be a man
and society told
him not to refuse them
so instead, he learned
to use and abuse me,
and then threw me
away to pick up the
pieces I’d find in the
creases of sidewalks
I’d find myself drifting to
in lieu of the bed I can
no longer sleep in.
Jenn Lee is a queer feminist, writer and poet. They are a doctoral candidate examining queer identity politics and textual representation. They pay heed to the riot’s true mothers and extend their hand to all their siblings fighting for revolution. More of their writing can be found at Jleewriter.com.
Insomnia by Sergey Ignatenko