THE CHASE

I am seven years old, sobbing silently into the sink, elbow deep in soapy water while my dad screams at me.
He doesn’t ask that fucking much of me, he tells me
I am lucky he doesn’t beat the shit out of me, he tells me
I am cleaning the dishes, desperate that he notices how good I am being

I am 18, feeling a boy grope my chest with his eyes shut
He is high, I am high - that must be why his eyes are closed
I am lucky to be in this bed, I think
I am leaning down to kiss him, maybe he’ll look at me after

I am my adolescent mother, listening to my brother rage through the house
He is vibrant in fury, there is no oxygen left for me to grow
Being a young man is hard, I am told
I am watching my father and brother bond, their shared anger an unbreakable code

I am 20, lying next to my boyfriend in my bed
Do I still love him even though he has sex with me when I say no, he asks me
My underwear is tangled around my ankles
I am telling him that I do

I am 10, trembling and paralyzed in the living room
My infant brother bawls upstairs while my dad yells at him, spanks him
I want to protect him so bad, but I don’t
I am smiling at my dad the next morning

I am 24, arguing with an old friend in an Irish bar
He spews condescension as he informs me that sexism does not exist
He texts me later that he hopes we’re good
I am texting him that we are

I am 22, bursting into tears at work
My much older coworker loves me, he says
Rumors that we are dating swirl through the oce
I am laughing them off, not wanting to cause trouble

I am me, glancing at the table of men across the bar
I don’t want these men, would not go home with them if they asked
I just want, need their returned attention
I am hoping that this compulsion fades

---

H.R. Weiss, 24, New York City - USA ✯ BACK TO POETRY: OUROBOROS