Spartaca

in the room/ in the street/ on the stair/ where some men make free
in plain sight or in secret as if we were sweetmeat/ to dip
fingers in and then forget – it is the being alone
afterwards that numbs and maims, utterly
alone in the silence of it/ where shame creeps in/
stuns dead/ but now we rise, all women
fondled and hurt and licked in acid jokery and in hate,
pets, sweethearts, loves, darlings, humourless bitches –
we stand together, each one a Spartaca
no longer silent or alone: each voice stronger,
massing, alive, a wild murmuration
of me too/ me too/ me too

Spartacus was a rebel slave hunted down by the Romans to
be crucified. Asked to identify himself by soldiers, everyone in the
crowd around him stepped forward and said ‘I am Spartacus’.