He is Pleased with me

by Regis Boff

He knew
I wasn’t going to tell.
I wrapped him in brown paper
and went home
and hid him,
after he raped me.
He was pleased.
He climbs on me at night.
I dream of him doing bug things.
“Remember our first time?”
he whispers in the mean humming pitch
of warm August night locusts
and I am confused.
“Of course,” I whimper.
He is pleased,
and I feel safe.
He sits in the quiet old chair.
Next to my bed.
I dream, that he is not there.
At breakfast, across the table from me,
he asks, “So what shall we do today?
So casually. I am confused.
My life with him is beginning.
He touches my hand,
He is pleased.
My deceit holds no estate in him.
I have vanished into what has hurt me.
Life forbids that I feel nothing at all.
My life might be long.