she is raped under the orders of nature
within cages real and imagined,
under stars that cling to the lowered eyelids of space,
before live televised audiences, and in closed door meetings in cities on the moon.
she is raped by those that denounce rape, by those who salivate for death,
or guests who show up unannounced
and wear their welcome down to teeth that beg and clinch and shake and weep
before the trembling forests full of blood,
as flowers burst and burn as stomachs churn and howl,
as gardens upon gardens grow and writhe and get sick and weak and give in and quit.
she is raped in vast loneliness.
she is raped in unforeseen regrets.
she is raped in bedrooms above dinner parties,
and under blankets knit by grandmothers.
she is raped by secrets.
she is raped by willfulness. she is raped in her own heart,
and by her own ideas of love.