A note before you read
This poem refers to sexual abuse and online predation, and to the silence and denial that can shield those responsible. It is handled at a remove, but the subject is present throughout.
"Just horrible," she had said,
her eyes fixed on the floor,
burning holes in the seams of it.
I wondered if she was reliving her own fear
as she said the words—
"7 men."
"Cornell."
"A chatroom."
"But my boys were raised better than that.
By me," she said.
Her eyes locked on her son.
Her son's eyes locked on the floor.
"My sons would never.
Because I raised them.
They protect.
They speak up."
"Accountable,"
she had said of her sons.
"They'd never be part of a chatroom
of 57 disgusting men.
Right?"
She didn't look at me.
She looked at him.
And he looked back at her.
Not at me.
She pressed.
He smiled
and nodded thinly.
I looked over at my baby son
toddling around
and all I wanted
was to cover his ears.
I'm sick to my stomach.
There's a reason
no one looks at me.
They'd be held—
Accountable.
