This month, an additional Moon Prize, the 125th, goes to Jess Whetsel's incisive poem "Lines in the Sand"


Lines in the Sand

by Jess Whetsel


I come home from the nude beach
and tell my husband about the man
old enough to be my father
who bet I’d make a good wife
with a body like that
who laid back in the sand
dick tucked between his thighs
and watched me put my clothes back on
piece by piece
made my stomach turn and my chest tighten
until I was safe in my car
until the click of the lock
until I finally exhaled

By the time I get home
I can tell my husband about the man
old enough to be my father
like sharing what I had for breakfast
I watch him brace for tears
that never seem to come
no matter how many men
old enough to be my father
there are

(And that’s just the ones
who are old enough to be my father)

A lifetime of being catcalled
touched without my consent
undressed by a leering gaze
becomes a grocery list of assaults
I can recite without blinking

I am worried
by how numb I have become
that I do not call myself a victim
because I know so many people 
who lost so much more 
than their comfort

How long will I draw
these lines in the sand?


* * * * *

Jess Whetsel is a poet, writer, editor, and public speaker based in Toledo, Ohio on Erie, Kickapoo, Seneca, and Odawa land. Her poetry has appeared in the literary journals Tulip Tree Review and Discretionary Love. You can learn more about Whetsel and her work on her website, www.jesswhetsel.com, or by following her Instagram, @jesswhetselwrites.