Molly Likovich

The justices felt that since the victim was wearing tight jeans she must have helped her rapist remove her jeans, thereby implying consent.

The thunderstorms told me
about you. How you were
made of honeycomb and bedtime

stories. I asked a traveler
where I could go to make
my hair grow teal from the

roots. Colorful prayer from
Indian mountaintops and African
beads became the outline of

my bones. You became
the stitching in my acid-
washed jeans. I became the

night when pretty words weren’t
enough. Catholics aren’t
welcome in synagogues. I’m not

supposed to be
here. I said no.