Page 38 - Contrast1997

Letter to Call the Role

Three sounds, suggesting perfection: the ideal.
A name for the last face you tasted outside
my knowing. The last face not my own.

You called her Idalia.

A faceless name, save the sticky curiosity of my pride
rambling across three beats. Three syllables
my single clue to the shape of your disloyalty.

You called her name, Idalia.

How could I compete with such a name-my own
as simple, as common as soft white bread?

You called me by my plain name.

I was sixteen upon our first meeting. Still believing
in words like fidelity and forever. My face
cupped in your strong, slender hands

You called me "Baby."

Faith. Trust. These, your words, nestled in tender places
you came to know about me. Just words, like names.
To your deaf heart, they meant nothing.

You'd forgotten what to call me.

At eighteen I was beaten by your graceful hands-
grown heavy with the weight of your guilt.
The bulk of your pain landed squarely across my jaw.

You called me "Bitch."

Nineteen, a survivor, I wonder whose face it was you saw
when you struck mine.

You.still won't call it abuse.

I wonder whose face you'll see when you strike hers ...

Janet Keymetian

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