by Tandra Smith
Content warning: Assault.
After it happened Fingers snakedtheir way up my body Past trembling thighs Ghosting over budding bruisesRight into my chest
Fingers squeezed and prodded and poked
Discovering unknown crevices
And there theyresided Silencing meRestricting me
“Don’t talk,” they breathed “After all, who would believe you?”
Nobody for now
But when I talk, the fingers will witherone by one My bruises will fade My thighs will still
My voice will raise
And they’ll know
Tandra Marina Smith is currently the Engagement, Copy Editing and Analytics Managing Editor at The George-Anne. She is a 21 year old senior journalism major who also runs a blog, A Black Girl Blogging, on the side. When she’s not staying up entirely too late, she enjoys playing around with makeup, watching Netflix and figuring out what she should wear on a daily basis.