If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.

Todd Akin
While looking at the throat, bronzed and flayed: the ribs

artichoke-winged, I feel neck-strung and silenced.

Giacometti’s cork-screwed contortions too familiarly …
… subjugate, dear Congressmen, like anatomy you parse

syntactically. Butter-lipped, you scrape your teeth against

my cervical hollows and leave (        ) as the space between…
…my legs where a title lives. Dear sirs, you clip my clitoris

into a neat trilogy. Legislate fertility like a war

order. Brand my haunches with your initials, iron-cast …
… and sizzling. You unsheathe your pen and lick

your greasy fingers. It seems you have studied

Giacometti, that you already know…
… how simple he kept his forms, asking only

that she/it always remain with her/its back

laid flat against the ground.