Friday, January 11, 2013

stabbed

in a lukewarm shower
i play the scene in my head,
the one she recounted
in horrifying detail.

the smell of liquor on his breath
was the first warning sign,
but by the time he was on top
she claims it was too late.

i turn the knob a little colder -
an attempt to drown out
the images in my head
of thrusting hips and gasps.

she dropped just enough
nuggets of detail -
my head filled in the gaps
with terrifying creativity.

i turn the knob a little colder -
trying to numb the thoughts
of her helplessness
and my inadequacy.

i wonder if she enjoyed it.
i know he came inside,
penetrating a space
that now is ours -- and private.

i turn the knob a little colder.