The air is gone.
I was breathing it - in and
out… in and out…
and then I am sitting on the
edge of the stirruped table
waiting for my yearly exam to begin
in a tiny half-gown only
big enough for a child
the tissue-thin paper
shredding as I try in vain
to cover my large adult nakedness…
sitting alone
waiting…
knowing in my head that I am
safe
that I am choosing this wait
knowing in my head that I am
not waiting for "him"
but the panic doesn't
understand anything
except that I am naked
and waiting
and suddenly
there is no adult in the room,
but instead, a trembling 9
year old
struggling to cover her bare
body…
waiting for the horror she
knows is coming
the horror that has happened
before…
and before…
and before…
and I cannot breath because
the air is gone.
LAE 5/28/15
