Poetry

i Rise from incest’s grave… today I speak

on saturday

his email invites

me back 

to hell…

back into

the shell where 

he wants me…

his ice cube eyes 

follow me… 

in emails he stalks me… 

flips the script…

like he owns me…

flips me upside 

down… and

once again I am

14 years old… and

those hunger-filled eyes 

follow me…not 

lovers’… but hunters’

hands glide 

over places of me

they shouldn’t…
once again i am

14 years

afraid… 

14 years so 

unsure of my own voice… 

I am…

…silent….

once 

again he wanted to…shhhhh….

… silence…

…shhhhhh…silence…shhhhhh…

silence…me…shhhhhhh…lest

shhhhhhhhh…because his lustful 

ears… 

his lustful 

eyes demand 

scapegoat quiets… scapegoat silence…or…

or…

else…
sometimes it 

doesn’t matter if

you don’t talk to

strangers…

sometimes 

just being born is

dangerous…
once

again i 

am 14 years old… and lustful eyes follow me… not

lovers’ eyes… but 

brothers’ lies…
incest climbs out of its nest to send 

email on Saturday…

quietly I acquiesce on Sunday… for two weeks i am

his silent offering… but

on the third… 

my 

voice rises from

the grave… Today

Today. Today.

I SPEAK

4 thoughts on “i Rise from incest’s grave… today I speak”

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