An Hour Killed

It’s Poetics Night at the dVerse Poets Pub. Our host tonight, Gospel Isosceles (Amaya Engleking) has asked us to “turn the pub into a psychological strip club as we bare it all.” The prompt is taboo.


McDonald’s and a movie…

On a school night?

He was my older cousin,

so it was okay but

home by 9:00pm.

An hour to kill

after the movie. I suggested

ice cream. He pulled in

to a motel parking lot instead.

Made it back by nine

without my virginity

and the ability to trust.

Anyone.

31 responses to “An Hour Killed”

  1. Very sad to see the loss that comes with losing one’s virginity before it is ready to be given~

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, it is. Especially by a trusted family member. Hah! Family.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Wow. This is powerful. That last line is a punch in the face.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, revivedwriter! :-)

      Like

  3. Great title. This is told with a cold, dissociative voice that seems to have been given you in place of your virginity and your trust. Like, here I’m just gonna reach over and take these from you, and I’m never gonna give them back, but here is something you can have: my own inability to feel compassion for you or anyone.

    We might bear this dissociation for a lifetime too, some years we’re more like ourselves and others when we’re floating away. But there is so much healing —on the planetary level too— when one repents and one forgives. I honor you for sharing.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Amaya. I appreciate you.

      Like

  4. kaykuala

    Teenage innocence can go in many directions. Here it is no holds barred in narration! Somewhat similar theme to Hank’s poem.

    Hank

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Hank!

      Like

  5. that last line is a bomb. a punch on the face.

    Like

  6. Taboo as backdrop to the destruction of trust, one moment lingers on. Powerful poem.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, pvcann.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. My pleasure – Paul :)

        Like

  7. Much more than the hour killed, sadly.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. True that! Thanks for stopping by, rivrvlogr

      Liked by 1 person

  8. Well described. I am sorry for the pain you went through. May these memories and the telling of them turn into a blessing somehow.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you for the kind & thoughtful words, Frank. This was a tough one to write.

      Liked by 1 person

  9. This gives me the creeps – all too well known.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sorry to creep you out, V.J. It was indeed creepy. Disgusting, actually.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Sorry this happened to you. I have a similarly disgusting cousin.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m sorry to hear, V.J. There seems to be an epidemic of disgusting cousins. Mine’s dead, though. May he rest in discomfort.

        Liked by 2 people

      3. …and uncles…and grandfathers….ugh.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Yikes! I had a couple creepy uncles but I wasn’t around them much. Never met grandparents.

        Liked by 1 person

  10. “Without the Ability
    To Trust Anyone”
    Sadly What Family?
    Will Take Away…

    Liked by 2 people

  11. Sadly, this happens more often than people dare to talk about. The girl fears being blamed for getting caught in the circumstances.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. You are exactly right, Reena. That’s why I am just speaking about it now. I would’ve been blamed, no questions asked.

      Liked by 1 person

  12. What a creep… and with someone from the family I assume you had to face him over and over.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Not so much, actually. The next time I saw him I was in my mid-20s. He commented on the ‘event’ and asked if I wanted a rewind. Hah! I acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about. It galled him!

      Like

  13. Susan, I know it took courage to write and then share your poem. The myth that the monsters are “out there” lurking in the dark is a great cover for the real monsters that dwell in our families and circles of acquaintance. The reality of your violation and you having to keep that secret because you felt you would be blamed is maybe the worst crime of all. I’m glad he’s dead, but I’m sorry you had to bear his burden all of these years.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Lisa. It was a cathartic write for sure, also a little scary.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You are welcome.

        Like

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