Sex+: “Slut” by Michele Santamaria

Slut

My bathing suit was Coca Cola red as the thin stream
of blood started flowing, my body model lean & supple
as an otter in the water, boys teasing me—
splashing, swimming round—as though we were all 
an unlikely bevy of creatures—quite unlike the body 
I grew into by thirteen, bombshell pin-up, peach 
bandeau top under a white linen jacket until the rumors
began. Maybe worst of all worst of all worst
of all, maybe she likes it. I started to wear my father’s 
suits, bespoke for him, too boxy for my figure—asked for 
a foot of my raven hair to be cut off and I walked
around sad as a woman who’s just found out her sister
was her husband’s latest conquest.  La llorana, all that
splendid raven hair in tufts around her chair, the scissors
sharp against her forehead as though a threat or perhaps
some kind of promise.  Do not betray me, love.  Do not
betray me.  The woods are full of bodies.  My steps are light. 

About Michele Santamaria

Michele Santamaria’s poems have been published in Cimarron Review, Bellingham Review, The Canary, and Bayou Magazine, among others. She is an assistant professor and Learning Design Librarian at Millersville University in Millersville, Pennsylvania.