Friday, March 11, 2005

Warning: may cause your eyes to bleed.


Virus

He tells me I'm pretty
and to hold still.
He tells me to wait awhile,
I’ll get used to it.
He tells me this is not rape.

He asks me if I feel anything.
He doesn’t wear gloves and asks
the nurse to leave.

He doesn’t wear a condom
and says he’s probably sterile.

He takes me home after the operation.
He tucks me into bed while I’m still
bleeding. Then he starts on my breasts.

He asks me if I want him to leave.
He tells me he doesn’t care if I want
him to leave.

He asks me if I’m okay and strokes
my hair. He won’t climb off me and
I can’t breath.

He asks if my mother’s home.
He asks if I will suck him off.
He tells me I owe him, he
drove me home when I got sick
at school.

He says he’ll fuck my mother too,
and laughs.

I ask him to wear pants when he comes
into my room. Sometimes he likes to touch
himself. I turn away from him when he
does it, and tell myself to sleep.

He tells me I look nice in that sweater.
He tells me his balls ache. He tells me
this in a low voice, when the office door
is closed.

I think something might be wrong, but I
can’t put my finger on it. I’m too
embarrassed to scream.

I pat him on the shoulder
when he sits crying on the broken couch.
He doesn’t make much noise.

I invite him home.
I tell him, if you say so.
I tell him it’s alright.

He tells me he’ll never do it again.
I say, no, that’s okay, no really.

2 comments:

Ivy said...

Man, oh man, Christine!

Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter said...

Yeah, it's a bit angst-full, eh?