by Sharon Hart

Published in Issue No. 5 ~ October, 1996

wrapped that duct tape
round my tense body
before I knew what hit me.

with your raging breath
and sick putrid slimy smile
bent me over
shoving, pushing, shoving, grunting.

I spat at you
as you forced your lips
‘tween my legs
in that fucked up little trailer
you called home.

As you snorted coke
I rolled on the floor
wanting to speak
wanting to manipulate you
into not killing me.

I could hurt you now if I had the chance.
I would hurt you now if I had the chance.

Now I puke into my pillow
all the poison I feed myself
to extinguish the burning.

Your smell and the taste of your come
mixed with the Bacardi I gulped in the morning
still lingers, undigested, in my gut.

And when I look in the mirror
sometimes, I still see
what you made me.

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Sharon Hart lives in Lawrence, KS, (Home of William S. Burrows). Originally enrolled at Boston University, she transferred to Kansas University, where she studied English Literature. Sharon Hart's work can also be seen in the on-line zine Artisan.