Wednesday, July 20, 2022

 

 

—WATCHING WHITE BIRDS GRAZE THE HEDGE

 

 

After Billy Rapes Me

 

I’m pinned to the floor, jagged edge of a broken bottle breathing on my throat like a python, and when he, sweaty, shook and bouncy, says, “Tell, and next time I’ll do it,” I try to say I won’t, but the lie gets stuck there, like a stone meant to drown me in a swamp, like a truth I’ll swallow, day after day, after day, after day, after day.

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