Encounter

Walk past me.
Please walk past me.
He stares at me in that awful way.
He winks.
I feel my stomach wretch.
I go to the office
and beg to go home.

He waltzed on in.
I was confused.
Wasn't this the girls' room?
His eyes shone black
with a speck of red.
The blood I'd discover
that night.

My legs burned.
The radiator behind me buzzed
but I couldn't move.
He wouldn't let me move.
His hand left a bruise on my wrist.
The other a strange feeling inside.
The girls entered.

He left smiling that guilty smile
but they looked at me like I had sinned.
I hid in the stall
until the halls came to life.
Then I ran
to the office
to call my mom.

Fake a stomach ache.
Force vomit if necessary.
Go home.
Crawl in bed.
Pretend it's safe.
You don't have to go back
if you're dead.

Reviews

[Deepak Belbase]

It's seems like the poem is based on the sexual harassment... I like your subject and the way you made every cleaver descriptions...it's the sign of a good writer. Keep it up!