By. Kaity Johnson
i press into my pillow
and melt—
as if it were the chest
of a man. a kind man
who only wants to
hold
and ease
not to
question;
berate
’til my feelings are
valid;
justified
to his liking.
in my home there is a man—
my man.
he is not that kind of man. so tonight
i’ll hold myself
tight
against the silent steadfast linen case
breathing in
the most gentle solace
sans
soul-bruising
breaks.
Kaity Johnson is a writer and activist based in Atlanta, Georgia. Her poems have most recently been published in Not Very Quiet Women's Poetry Journal and the inaugural issue of Spark Reproductive Justice's CAMPFYRE Zine.