Right Here


By. Krystina Olsen

It’s complicated

Because I can’t stop

The hands that tick the tock

On top of my blocked


Behind my knees

Escape, run,

Blurred trees

The forestry of your body

Cripples me, consumed

Don’t know what it means

Except that I always

Wanted to be touched

Is this touch?

Is this too much?

I was seven

And still am

Right here, in my body

And right here

And right here

And right here

And right here

But listen,

Right Here is where I’m done

Fingering the numb

An explosion is coming

Ha! Try again

It’s not the kind that you wanted

This cosmic thunder

This star burst, watch her

She is called Rage

Turn every page

Till you see the last sentence

That claims my humanity

My dignity


First and last right

To my own femininity

THIS is not yours


Mind, breath, spirit, body

This is me

Made of love and, now, relentless nurture

I am not the substance of that enemy

I am not what happened to me

I am what I am what I am

And I am me

A goddess of women who’ve gone before me

They ran

My god, they ran

And they warned

They screamed red and white

Deep and bright

And they told me

About the home inside of me

Where he couldn’t reach

The soft parts, untouchable

The pieces that are free

To be

Exactly seven

Or any age between



And tell them all

Crack the seams for her

Rage loud enough so she knows

This isn’t touch

This is too much