- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Incest
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Hot August afternoon
The dusty road disappears behind us
Hands touching me, touching me
"No!" I say. "No!"
"Hush," I am told.
"Be still. Be silent. Be good."
Hot August afternoon
The dusty road disappears behind us
Hands touching me, touching me
Even under my clothes
I am still. I am silent. I am good.
Grandmother is watching.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 13 years agoand raise you a deeply unsettling. There is no way to interpret this poem that doesn't make my skin crawl...I am so hoping this is not personal experience....
