January 2003 / Volume Four / Issue One
Casandra Coin
Coming of Age

Hot, sticky hands crawled over me.
I was still and emotionless–
numb drunk.
My mind raced and he took me
while he could– abruptly
and without remorse.

It’s strange how greatly one event
can change a life.
Mine was– permanently.
I no longer saw men as safe–
Even my father.
always said “all boys want the same thing.”

Slowly, my distrust turned to hate.
Over years, that hate became pity.
Pity transgressed to indifference, and
finally led to love
of self.

Without that sickening day in the clubhouse,
when I pushed his cumbersome weight
from my prone and preyed flesh–
I sometimes wonder how long it might have taken
to find myself.
Return to January 2003