I Was Silent
TW: Sexual Assault
At least three Long Islands
I thought I could hang
He was such a gentleman
Walking me home
Memories are only in fragments
The officer asked me if I said no
I know I wanted to say no
I think my lips didn’t move
I think my body cooperated with him
Locked in syndrome from the alcohol
Did he put something in it?
The officer says I wasn’t that drunk
But it’s been nearly 20 hours
I hadn’t met the boy before
A friend of a friend
In town for a fun weekend
He has a bright future ahead
I shouldn’t ruin it
The lie detector test shows deception
I’m not lying
I want to scream like I wanted to scream no
My mouth is glued shut
My vocal chords frozen
As if I was never a singer
As if I was never a debater
As if I didn’t know how to use my voice
As if my silence was consent
Mirror, Mirror Lies to Me
Mirror, mirror on that wall used to show me something beautiful
Size double zero
Thigh gap
Michelle Obama arms
A Kerri Strug tush
No discernible waistline, but an almost concave, flat stomach
Mirror, mirror on that wall used to show me
Porcelain complexion like Kiera Knightly
A sharp jawline
Bright, awake eyes
A full hairline
And no crows’ feet
Mirror, mirror now lies to me
She shows me a rounded stomach
Though I haven’t given birth
Arms thicker with fat than muscle
Thighs that stick together unless purposefully parted
A softening, doubling chin
A thinning hairline
Lines around eyes and mouth
Mirror, mirror I had so many plans for that girl
That beautiful, fit, young girl
I never thought of what to do with this thicker, older version
CLS Sandoval, PhD (she/her) is a pushcart nominated writer and communication professor with accolades in film, academia, and creative writing who speaks, signs, acts, publishes, sings, performs, writes, paints, teaches, and rarely relaxes. She’s presented at communication conferences, served as a poetry and flash editor, published 15 academic articles, two academic books, three full-length literary collections, three chapbooks, and both flash and poetry pieces in literary journals, recently including Opiate Magazine, The Journal of Radical Wonder, and A Moon of One’s Own. She is raising her daughter, son, and dog with her husband in Walnut, CA.
Image: FLAVIA BRILLI, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
