Snow White

*************Trigger Warning. This poem eludes to instances of sexual abuse. If you are sensitive to such material, reader discretion is advised.*******************************************

When I was a little girl

I had a poster of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Taped to my closet door.

The same closet I kicked him into

When I was older

And it wasn’t my house anymore.

It was hard to fall asleep at night

So I would stare at the poster.

I learned that if I stared at the poster long enough

The darkness of the room

would begin to transform the poster…

The characters would begin to move, to dance, to wave at me, to smile.

I got very good at this technique

So good, in fact, that I could look at the poster and it would continually move

As if I were watching a movie.

I always had to make up the songs or dialogue

But the characters would always move in rhythm to what I would sing or say.

I thought it was amazing

That I could do such a thing, that I had such powers

That images which were one way

Could be changed, enlivened, altered

When I was in a state of need.

I lived much of my younger years this way

In sort of a dreamy world

In my mind.

My mind was very active

but my body was quiet

and nobody knew this other side

Of me.

When I would take a bath

I would lay all the way down in the water

So the water would come up just under my nose.

I would remain as still as possible.

If I was still enough the water would become almost flat

Like a mirror suspended parallel above my little body,

And it would accurately reflect what was above it…

the ceiling…the shower fixture…

And yet, it seemed to have a limitless depth

And I could sit there like that for a very long time

Engulfed in every last detail of that reflection.

Much of which I have now forgotten.

But I do remember parts of it…kind of like the way I remember everything

I remember details

I remember sensations.

The funny thing

Is that I can tell you specific details

About objects in a room

Or in the neighborhood I grew up in,

On the corner of a sidewalk where I sat when I was12.

Or in the room where things would happen…

But I cannot remember what would happen

In those rooms or

In the neighborhood or

On the corner…

In the room

Blacklight stickers on the ceiling

melted candle wax dripped on top of his t.v.

a beanbag chair, old and well worn.

And yet…

That night, he pinned my arms above my head

So large and looming over me that both wrists fit in one of his massive hands

And the cold my body felt

As he undressed me

Time and again…

And then it goes black.

And there is nothing but emptiness, an aching in my stomach.

And there is light again

I am walking up the stairs, disheveled

In pain

And broken.

The ride home with Dad

Me lying in the back seat, the seatbelt pressing hard into my hip

As I counted the street lights as we passed beneath them.

And when I was younger

I remember the room

I know I was just inside the doorway

And I can tell from the view that I am young and small because the ceiling is so much higher than it is now…

And to the left

And to the front

And to the right

I see metal shelves lined with glass aquariums

it seemed like limitless aquariums

Snake after snake

seething inside their glass homes.

I remember

The uneasy feeling …

And the bright green snake on the left

Just at my eye level.

Strangely beautiful but…

And I remember the light switch on the left wall that was above my head

And he comes in the room

Standing behind me

Leaning one arm on the doorway

His slender body in an angle from his elbow to his toes.

I turn around to see him

And nothing…

Blackness

And I cannot tell you what comes next.

In the neighborhood

I remember the smell and feel of the grass

The white sidewalk

The games…young voices shouting back and forth to each other.

I remember

cracks in the driveway where we played basketball

for hours and hours.

And the smell of the honeysuckle bush.

The evening sky and the stars as I looked up

and the ache inside

that tingles even to this day

if I am outside

at night.

The brown telephone poles that were well worn and peeling

The smell of tar coming from them if you got your face close enough.

I remember the pressure on my back

As he rolled himself on top of me

And my left cheek pushing hard into the grass

And his breathing in my ear...

I remember the house

It was ours once

But we moved and then he moved into it.

I remember running, breathing hard…laughing, scrambling around the house

and the boys

hunting me...

And the refrigerator was hard and cold on my back

As I slid down it to sit on the kitchen floor

But then he bolts around the corner

Pushing me back

And pushing his hand in

And I jumped

From the cold

From how roughly he touched

And then I get up, I face him! I yell at him I say it was wrong

And then…nothing

Blackness

And later…the day has progressed

And I am still in the house

Still playing the game

And the boys have got me now

I am trapped

All three holding me and pushing me back onto the bed

And securing each leg…

Shouting to one another…

And their energy is in the room

It is filling up the space in the room and it is becoming a flustering vortex

Of energy, of action, of consummation, of power

And here I am

On my back

And I am being pulled into it

I am lost in the energy

And I just have to fight

To kick

To get away…

I remember the blankets and sheets

The bathroom doorknob

as I held tight to keep them out

The slamming as they bounded in

The yells the screams

The pain in my head and wrists as they are slammed against the wall

and the ripping of clothing

and feeling of panic

The sudden understanding

that this wasn’t a game

to them.

But then, there is nothing.

Just this echo in my mind that grows more and more distant

As I try to make it day to day

As a mother

As a wife

As a friend

This echo and this strange feeling of…movement…inside my body

Its like a rapid almost violent movement

And then it starts to pull back and pull away and I feel far away

From myself

Not different…just far away

as if my eyes

Are further out from my head

Than they should be

Or like my head is filled up with air

And then the fear comes in.

This feeling of surrounding…

Like many bodies are around you

A strong energy

but it’s a dark energy

that feels foreign, it’s invading

and it feels hungry

for you…

and you just know

you can’t run this time.