feminism 

in high school, my boyfriend had a car
full of beetles. the problem was 
only i could see them. they were the kind
that shone in the afternoon light
like alien diamonds. i would say things like
"i'm not a feminist, i just think everyone
should be equal." he would laugh.
the beetles would laugh. we would go & park
at an abandoned something or other,
roll down the windows & die just a little bit.
once, his parents were out of town 
& the house also filled with beetles. 
i had gotten good at ignoring them.
do not flinch when they march across your thighs. 
he grabbed me like a potato roll. he joked,
that he liked me best when i was inside out.
when no one else could see us.
we had matching pajamas. sometimes,
i mistook him in the dark for myself.
a shadow or else a reflection in an unknown mirror.
maybe that was the point. i cooked for him all the time.
his favorite was fish. butter & lemon.
he said, "this is what you should do every day."
his fork like a new tongue. ceiling fan breeze. 
the beetles crowded the counters.
glinted in perfect lines across the glass table.
often i wonder how many ways
i let him hate me. i lead by example. i want you 
to cover your ears. i am telling you 
the deep-bellied self-blame thoughts.
instead, what i should tell you is that
i still see the beetles. they were not the problem.
they were the harbingers. they said,
"you are a feminism." i hated when they tried
to tell me that. i wept. i crushed them. i said,
"i am not beautiful. i am not a..." i didn't finish the sentence. 
driving down the highway twenty miles
over the speed limit, he said, "i am going 
to make a ghost out of you." not hearing him
i asked, "what?" & he replied, "i meant a girl."