She was older
as they (almost) always are.
The day before
I’d thought her funny
and yeah,
I noticed
the way she filled her sports bra
and her blush-pink lips
just right for kissing.
So that night I left the party
to camp on the beach
with her.

I think if we’d been under the open sky
maybe it would have been okay:
the wind on my skin and the sound of surf.
But the tent was nightmare-dark
her breathing heavy
her hair black and coarse beneath my hands
and she seemed so much larger
than my suddenly
blown-glass body.

It always goes back to childhood
when his hair was black and coarse
and scored red curlicues
everywhere we touched.
His weight
the weight of a terrible world
and a future
I would never have.

The problem
is that glass is voiceless
and when it shatters
well, not even a whimper echoes;
no hope in hell
of a “please stop.”

I tend to think that she
hurt me that night
and what it was
is another trophy for a man from 20 years ago
who even in his absence
continues to rape me.

Written by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com.


6 thoughts on “Flashbacks

  1. You write powerfully of the unspeakable, Annie Jadin! The poetry of pain, and, strangely, of hope too. Perhaps it is the very fact that you articulate this stuff, that gives the hope; as though the truly voiceless speak through you.


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