alyssa hanna

AT LEAST IT WASN’T

 

i am grateful for my portion.
the lights flicker like uncertainty,
the plates’ clatter is a music.
it’s a shame, she told me, but that’s
just the way the world works.
it’s closing time, kitchen getting rowdy,
hands on someone else’s knees, unsure
of what happens next.

sirens happen next, passing and shining
seizures through the street.
did you hear about that girl?
a body presses against me when the voice hits
my ear. she was
raped in a ditch on her way home from a shift at Starbucks.
i meet his eyes and i know this body.
i do not want to know this body.
you really gotta be careful of strangers.
let me walk you home tonight. you
trust me, right?
 

she told me that at least
it wasn’t in a ditch. that
i didn’t really get hurt, no
bruises, black eyes, just
the haziness left behind, hardly even
that vague soreness she had when it happened to her
last. i am

grateful for my portion.

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