by Duane Herrmann
An acquaintance
far from home
needed to sleep,
was offered the room
next to mine.
I, a naïve teen,
uninformed, unaware,
socially innocent;
he, twice my age
and that much heavier,
offered a massage,
curious, I accepted.
Midway through
objected to my undershorts –
I removed them.
In moving over me
I felt he had none too.
Then he poked
and asked for lube.
I froze, paralyzed,
unable to move or speak.
“You want it rough then,”
he chuckled and began.
What?!
I felt the handle
of a rake, or hoe, or shovel
going in and out –
it hurts! It HURTS!
until he finished,
got off, thanked me
kissed my back,
then went to bed.
Next morning he
was cheerful –
I could not speak,
still felt him in me.
*Previously published in Remnants of a Life