Petrichor: The scent of the earth after the first rainfall.

That same rainfall which makes it impossible to move from the couch,

because someone played god

with my body and lost--

against my will.

Parading me in a bathing suit to an auditorium full of men,

as my flaws were methodically pointed out over a loudspeaker.

And everyone thinks I should join the medical profession--

because at thirteen I already know so much Latin.

If this same scenario were performed by parent or guardian,

CPS would have a thing or two to say,

as it is, this act is lauded and awarded telethons,

as any objections leave me branded

 

“ungrateful, difficult patient”

 

once reprimanded for “not wanting to find a cure”,

when what I didn’t want was to be a lab rat

or the scientific subject

of a peer reviewed research paper.

Repeatedly, shown that I had no control over violence

done to my body at the hands of old, predominantly white men,

do you wonder, now, at my bruises?