Empty cup

that is how I think of the organ

turned over like a mound of dirt,

sleeping and awake, earthly exhale,

between two ham legs.

​

You would have thought

there would have been a lesson,

a mandatory course, the steps to work it out:

​

we give tests for driving, circles sliding

into streets on edges with sharp corners.

In my era

abuse was not talked about

If sexual abuse, the authorities would ask:

What were you wearing?

What did you do to seduce him?

Blame the victim, no arrest made.

As time changes so does the view of

sexual abuse.

Bitter memories of my brother

who at 15 years attacked

myself, I was only 17

the shame and guilt haunts me today

When I think back through my memory banks

there were episodes of sexual abuse

that I have buried deep inside of me.

In 1982, I was walking thru the tunnels

that connect the dorms, fraternities, sororities

and the rest of the school. I was gang raped by a group

of boys. They held me down, tore my clothes and

each took their turn.

I went to campus police

they asked me the standard questions:

What were ou wearing?

What did you do to seduce him?

Blame the victim and continue to say

that the incident didn’t warrant

further investigation and the POLICE

were not called.

I carried the shame and guilt of it.

Being called the Coby C Queen.

By certain men that new that

I had been raped.

It took many years for me to

talk about being raped. I was not

able to be touched by another

human being without the flashback

of this event.

For many years I choose

the wrong type of men.

Men that were abusive.

​

My marriage, he started out

as a gentlemen but, as time

passed he started to abuse

me sexually. The police

wouldn’t hear of it

because we were married.

In their book it was

acceptable because we

were married.

​

My 2 nd husband left

after 2 weeks of marriage.

Nine months later he

returns and overdoses me

with my own meds.

When I awoke he was

on top of me.

​

Today, neither one of

us has discussed it. We let

it be that he left and

never came home.

Keep those eyes moving

crosswalks, jay walkers, signs and lamps,

with heated color swatches

interspersed with cool

for going

​

but in this terrain,

this murky bush,

this hot house of sweat

with pheromone bomb,

we walk along

huddled and frightened,

amused and alarmed,

learning by feel,

electrified but dumb,

deaf, and blind

in the dark.