Table Top Stories

Poet: Amanda Lee-Plaisance

Sitting down with my Great Aunt.
A bita cross generational chit-chat.
I’m trying to play archeologist
escavating secret caverns of our lives
slowly, my life unfolds before her.
The film slices of memory
A touchy feely sorta childhood
Teen age, where there was too much fear in the home to say….
I’ve been raped
When did the date rape lingo come into the light?
I didn’t even know what to call it
And when those boys brought me home, all smiling and shaking hands with my dad.
I felt like I was going to explode from within
A great swelling of sick
I tell her that I can’t count the times after I left home that “no,” meant nothing to them
That instead of coming home to parents, I walked to a dorm
I walked into a closet of silence
Muffled daze
12 years I spent trying to know someone and in the end was blamed for not having a taste for sex
I wasn’t womon enough
And so I sit with her
Knowing that she is a womon
She is mighty and good
This queen bee says
“We’ve all been raped,”
Her 8 sisters
“All our womyn, by their husbands…
“…it was just the way it was,” she says to me.
It was    Just   the way it was.
Now I know that my stories have a home.
And hers do too…
We’re taking the gags from our mouths
And telling stories to eachother
So that no children of mine will live in a world where lies remain closeted specters
Creating table top dramas generations later.
Tell your story womon, man, child, healer
Let these words be stones so that we may walk into the future
Seen and not hidden.
2003 amanda

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