you binned the evidence
and laughed because it couldn’t have happened
washed your skirt and washed
the spiked glass with the others
weeks later picked up a nice guy at a bar
               threw up on him
a shrink asks if you were drunk
               offers hypnosis
instead you become the mute epicentre
of a word of warning
you file a binding spell
               as a closed report
on the Richter scale it was barely a three
half a decade of aftershocks
               in bed
               on buses
               his black hair near a girl at a party
one day you laugh
telling a friend how tiny he was
you inhabit this silence:
               it wasn’t even violent
why didn’t you struggle then
like you struggle now
               under his weight
               which like Atlas
               he has tricked you into carrying
you are not afraid of him
you fear
that one day you’ll see his name
               in the news
               and that will be your fault


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