Poetry: Selections from Beth Mulcahy

Usedness

you don’t feel it right away the usedness of it all

only later you think about it and your body

and what you’ve done

and the guilt and shame

that no rationale can erase

come settling in your stomach

and you wish you’d thought it before...anything...happened

and it wasn’t that bad...but still

he doesn’t care anymore

and he doesn’t want you anymore and even if he did

to give in again

would mean to feel like this again only worse than ever

safe from everyone with him

from everyone but him

from everyone but yourself

there is no safe anymore anywhere

you are always at risk

unwillingly used as a victim

of the power of desire

harsh and cold all the way through a vicious cycle of victimization only broken if you stop caring

You are only safe if you don’t mind so much

but the usedness of it all

never goes away

What These Words Mean

These words look like me

but they are only me trying to get to you like reaching across a world

of time and space in one day

These words look like nothing

but they are something more than that like waking up when it’s still dark

and going outside

to walk the night into day

and it feels like letting the outside

get inside you

These words aren’t the same as squeezing hands on a train but if you read them

they might tell you how

I’m struggling today with that feeling you know?

These words aren’t enough

but they’re all I have

like watching puddles pool with rain and pretending it counts

as living on water

These words may not get me to you but these words

these words

are my only way

Beth Mulcahy (she/her), is a Gen X-er from Michigan who now lives in Ohio with her husband, two kids and their loyal Havanese dog sidekick. Beth works for a company that provides technology to people without natural speech. In her spare time she writes poetry, fiction, memoir, and dreams about visiting Scotland. Her work has appeared in various journals and she has been nominated for a Pushcart prize.