No Trespassing

By Jyl Anais Ion

One day, I’ll walk
without invitations for rides
shouted by men in
pickup trucks
driving in the opposite direction:
straight to Hell.

And wait for a bus
without an incessant flow of questions
about my marital status,
whether I’ve been incarcerated
or not, as though that
would explain why
I’m not married
and whether I’m looking for a boyfriend
and why not,
whether I’ll take their phone numbers
to call when I’m ready
for one.
Constant harassment
embeds itself
in me.

I think I’ll tattoo
“No Trespassing”
across my chest
after all,
and walk with
a pit bull named “Happy”
my body between
sandwich boards that read,
like the sign
in Isabel’s bedroom did,

No hunting
or fishing, here.

For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.