Rape

　　by Sondra Upham

　　 I wake to a knife

　　 on the back of my neck，

　　 a man's voice low

　　 in my ear. What I am told to do，

　　 I do. Still

　　 the moon lights my room.

　　 The freight of his chest

　　 fixes me to the rough， wood floor.

　　 His breath

　　 brags down my throat

　　 into my lungs， and I pray

　　 for my soul.

　　 I make of my body a bunker：

　　 when he enters，

　　 he does not touch me.

　　 I am clean as rain.