women like you get hurt because 
the cross allows men 
to forget, because words like 
family and friend fall ashen 
in the light of day, because 
it isn’t your fault but you hate 
yourself anyway as you sit alone 
on stone steps waiting for 
a verdict that won’t stitch
               the tear, and you 
imprint your grandmother’s 
necklace in ink where lace 
defends it, delicious blasphemy 
akin to a confessional and 
you delight in the female form, 
your form, 
because the hypnosis of your hips 
belongs to you, no matter what others 
have claimed, because looking at the 
mirror is a lot like loving a self 
you have yet to meet.
​​Diane Callahan strives to capture her sliver of the universe through writing fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. As a developmental editor and ghostplotter, she spends her days shaping stories. Her YouTube channel Quotidian Writer provides practical tips for aspiring authors. You can read her poetry in Visitant, Cypress, The Sunlight Press, semicolon, Vita Brevis, The Interpreter's House, Rust+Moth, and Kissing Dynamite among others.
header image: Adrien Olichon via Unsplash