BODY IMAGE Poem: Body Count, by Jelisha Jones

I started at five,
morphed into ten.
Crisis overflow—
Why am I sleeping with so many men?

Made a promise.
Repent.
Born again.
No more men.

Then I do it again,
again,
and again.

This ain’t how Mama raised me.
To sin
has become my religion.

How could I ever be somebody’s wife
With all of these ghosts
Hiding away in my closet?

A new one comes—
The counter ticks again.
This ain’t for pleasure,
No, not at all.

Just need skin to skin
to feel
something.

Make a vow:
I’ll be good.
I’ll do right.
Try celibacy.
Quit – cold turkey.
No more ghosts lurking—
Just stay in the light.

Weeks pass.
Months.
I can even do years.

But another comes.
The ache begins.
She throbs below.

Can’t stay a good girl for too long.
Need a fix.
I dive back in.

Why am I such a whore?
Why must I scratch an itch
that’s never satisfied?

He can’t please me,
So I go to the next guy,
And then there’s that one over there.

It was ten a few years ago.
Now I don’t even try to pretend.

Don’t ask God for forgiveness.
Skip the church altar on Sunday.
There’s no need to ask for salvation.
Why?

A ho gon’ be a ho.
And I’m just gon’ do it again anyway.