the rape at the window

i took a walk through quiet streets
while the town slept.
the pavements shone with autumn rain,
exploding in the street light.
my feet took me down familiar roads,
i let them.
my eyes were drawn to windows gold,
where i had seen those things,
seen them before.
windows that crept back to me
as i slumbered.
or sometimes, simply interrupted me
in the blue of day.
red interruptions, red and black.
i felt my feet paddle on, to the place i know –
i let them.
i want to see it – oh! i wanted to.
but it is too awful, too bad. too bad.
those hands, that steam…
it is painted on the inside of my eyes,
on the stone in the grass,
printed in the paper, black on white.
skin on skin, skin on glass.
my eyes are painful, stabbing pain,
i wish i could tear them out, thrust them down
as penance for my guilt.
take them, i could shriek.
would that fill the table space?
would that fill her lungs?


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