Everyone saw that picture of me
like trussed game hauled out of the woods.
People in fucking Australia read about me.
We don’t use minors’ names. Like that means a damn.
Two states away, former residents say,
We all know who it is. You should have seen
what she wore to midnight mass Christmas Eve.
Bishops, lawyers talking about lessons for parents,
teachers, community leaders. Like rape
is some fire drill. I learned. There is no safe.
I’m still honor roll, got plans: west coast college
dye my hair, cut it off, watch my glass at all-times.
Trussed game. First kill. A blooded youth,
that stain gone long before the name we burned
into those boys carrying me. Rapist.
Not quarterback. Not wide receiver. Rapist.
Wendy Scott’s first book, Soon I Will Build an Ark, was published by Main Street Rag. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Painted Bride Quarterly, Paterson Literary Review, Cobalt Review, Potomac Literary Review, Lost Coast Review, and Mojave River Review, among others. Wendy has an MFA from the University of Pittsburgh and has taught writing for more than a dozen years.