ROBERTA TRACY

★ ★ ★ ★

POETRY

Image by Alexander Andrews

R.O.A.R.

“These days you’d call it rape.” 
That’s what my mother said to me
when I first spoke to her by phone. 

That long-awaited first chat. I hadn’t
asked and didn’t need to know,
but she needed to get it off her chest
and dumped it on mine. 

Silence. 

Any fantasy I had of a short
or forbidden romance vaporized.
Reality hit like a dirty brick. 

I. am. the. Result. Of. A. Rape.  

Silence

“Are you there?”