Little Better Than HimShe'd been assaulted. My stomach was killing me.
I played along. I asked her what had happened.
Her boss, who's an asshole, I've met him,
Had groped her. She cried. She was terrified.
What should she do? The job was her dream,
And the boss had been helpful, pushing her
Forward, giving her praise, but he'd forced
Her against a wall, and his finger...”you know
How it felt. You know what it meant,” she
Told me, but I was distracted. My stomach
Was killing me. She sneered at my feeble
Attempt to seem troubled. She cursed me
For being unable to care, and she left.
I suspect that she won't be returning,
And I know that's what I deserve.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 23 times
Written on 2020-08-02 at 03:02
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