PALM TREES, POST-RAPE
Oceanboy sends his waves up my toes, frigid,
unending. I fall asleep on the beach, wake
covered in sand. Yes, I believe for a moment in
inner fucking peace or some such shit. How can
I be both collapsed and naive? There’s salt in my
doe eyes. And here he comes, someday I plan on
feeling it less. Someday I plan on him going to jail.
Is this called numb, or just cold? Someday I
plan on more girls on his victim list, because we
both know I never call the cops. I am an island,
I tell him, I am an island. He surrounds me,
licks at my hair. I give up, okay? I give up.