Dont Ask Dont Tell

Blood pounding in the ears
clawing, scratching, waiting for the scream to rise.
Wake up, wake up! I am awake in mid-nightmare.
Violence jettisons the consciousness to safe harbor
somewhere unknown – brutality against resisting flesh.
Hands grip so hard, lingering bruises are in the shape of hand prints
around the neck, across the breasts, on the thighs.
Unending pain, softness and beauty once so tender are violated, bleeding
sullied in no explicable way.
I cannot tell you. face judgement, the inquiry.
I cant tell you what I will not own as history.
Please don’t ask why I cant talk about
the mattress carrying girl anymore. You can’t know
the word “rape” fires up my brain, heart-rate and the need to flee
and the word makes me not able see you anymore or hear your words.
Please don’t ask. Don’t tell.

Say It

Words burn in my veins.
I cannot say them out loud.
Afraid of the sound,
the portent,
the reality.
A swell starts in my solar plexus.
In my throat the words expand,
press at my voice box,
bring tears to my eyes.
In my head, “say it”
but I cant. And then the moment passes.
And no one knows
I had something to say
or why I am standing so still.