An Hour Killed

It’s Poetics Night at the dVerse Poets Pub. Our host tonight, Gospel Isosceles (Amaya Engleking) has asked us to “turn the pub into a psychological strip club as we bare it all.” The prompt is taboo.


McDonald’s and a movie…

On a school night?

He was my older cousin,

so it was okay but

home by 9:00pm.

An hour to kill

after the movie. I suggested

ice cream. He pulled in

to a motel parking lot instead.

Made it back by nine

without my virginity

and the ability to trust.

Anyone.

31 thoughts on “An Hour Killed

  1. Great title. This is told with a cold, dissociative voice that seems to have been given you in place of your virginity and your trust. Like, here I’m just gonna reach over and take these from you, and I’m never gonna give them back, but here is something you can have: my own inability to feel compassion for you or anyone.

    We might bear this dissociation for a lifetime too, some years we’re more like ourselves and others when we’re floating away. But there is so much healing —on the planetary level too— when one repents and one forgives. I honor you for sharing.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Not so much, actually. The next time I saw him I was in my mid-20s. He commented on the ‘event’ and asked if I wanted a rewind. Hah! I acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about. It galled him!

      Like

  2. Susan, I know it took courage to write and then share your poem. The myth that the monsters are “out there” lurking in the dark is a great cover for the real monsters that dwell in our families and circles of acquaintance. The reality of your violation and you having to keep that secret because you felt you would be blamed is maybe the worst crime of all. I’m glad he’s dead, but I’m sorry you had to bear his burden all of these years.

    Liked by 1 person

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