Accumulae

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Shaken
from a resonance
so sharp
where the path is so dark,
so, so dark.

I only just recalled at thirty-four
being molested at age five.
NO.

Another, I was seventeen, over steak dinner.
‘Are you religious…?
I heard you had a strict upbringing…?
You seem so much older and wiser
than your age,
there’s a hotel up the road.’
He winked like vomit.
NO.
He tried to kiss me.
His tongue felt slimy and forceful
as I tried to drive away.
He was in his sixties, I think.

Then on,
almost two decades,
different men,
same motive,
same thread of entitlement.
NO.
So on and so forth.

At first
it is
shocking,
then it is
painful,
then it is
normal,
then it is
expected.

Age thirty-five,
I shake my head,
still so lit and scarred
with vulnerability,
bitterly,
‘These men.’

Numb- rage- numb- rage.
Make it stop.
I told you no.
It feels collective.

hs
Copyright 2014

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