My small hand was wrapped tightly
In your big one.
Squeezed by the wrist and
Squashed underneath your sweaty
I remember it all now, like a still
Photograph, but with touch.
Cheap vinyl sticking to my skin.
Weight on top of me.
Year later, I can see so
Clearly that I wasn't as big
As I thought I was. Or
As you thought I was.
My other hand beat you,
Flailed, scratched, hurt you.
But not enough. You took your
Other big hand from my face and slapped me.
I was a child! A boy! You were bigger.
Even if I was an athlete, I couldn't have
Moved you off me. Tried to bite,
You almost broke my jaw.
You didn't want to hear me then,
Almost vomited in your giant hand.
Screamed, pleaded, I can still hear my
Muted cries and your "shut the fuck up!"
Hands all over me, too big. My small
Hands beating a mountain, my body
Speared by you and still trying to
Get away from you.
Now all I see is the snapshot of
Your hand crushing mine.
Who was more to blame?