Victim

Mind in a clouded haze

born of tequila and rum,

of hands that slipped more

cups into yours.

How can you speak with

another mouth caging yours?

 

Attacker

You are more than willing

and don't stop to think if she is.

Your arms have become chains

but the key was knocked back

with that fourth beer.

Oh, what a happy warden.

 

Friend

Shoes off, in a circle around

your handbags, but someone is

gone. A trip to the bathroom

leaves a hole large enough

to jam a thumb into,

stretch open like dough, rip her

out. Your link has been severed

and she is the last plastic monkey,

falling down into the barrel.

 

Bartender

Foam drips down the

yeasty glass and through it, her face,

amber, fish-eyed, is ingrained

like a Polaroid.

Years later it is still in

your pocket, worn with time

rounded corners providing the courage

to cut another kid off.

 

Partier

You don't want to make a scene

but the roiling in your gut

at the sight of him

pulling her stumbling form

through the smoke

almost overcomes your hesitance.

The light paints the floor like

a stained glass window, but church

has never been your place.

 

Bouncer

It's in your job description,

but not in your bar,

and when you notice her

the moonlight is already filtering

through the fingers cupping her jaw

and they're sliding into the back seat.

A taxi isn't a stallion, though,

and he's surely no prince charming.

 

Roommate

She's pressed against

the cabinets, head lolling

eyes glazed, not there anymore.

Intervention requires strength

you don't think you have tonight

and he seems like

a lion to a lamb.

 

Father

Life is a cruel and vicious circle.

What they don't tell you

about being a father

is realizing that men will do

to your daughters

what you did to women

when you were young.

 

Mother

Your baby has been shattered

like a porcelain doll.

But scotch tape doesn't hold

like glue, and anyway

something crawled in while she

was cracked open.

She has been doubled now

another part of her clinging like a parasite.

You never wanted twins.

 

Sister

You are the witness to

tears tracking mascara like mud

and vomit that stays like

an unwanted guest

in the corner of painted lips.

Just hold her hair

and wait for the mo(u)rning.

 

Counselor

The squeal of leather as she

shifts is all too familiar,

her breath hitching with sobs

and you would take it away

if you could. Seal all the girls away

until boys became men,

toy soldiers who care more about

studying than the length of

a skirt or the bare slip of a shoulder.

 

Politician

You are a child of

hypocrisy and bullshit and

you bear your title well.

And through all your talk of

"legitimacy", you pay no heed

to a blonde head peeping through

the crowd, fists tightened in rage.

But hey, don't worry, if it's a real beating,

your body will shut out the pain, right?

 

Survivor

You have flirted enough with

denial, didn't attend the funeral

for lost innocence and spent

days worshipping rage.

Stranded in a desert,

peace came through women

who offered oasis,

soothed your cracked heels

and parched throat.

It's not a lie to say

you're okay, anymore.