You led them in, single file to stare, 

a roaring silence in her solemn; 

my solemn, my soul overlooked 

under the spell of some undertaker, 

Two feet dangling, untouchable 

above the tile floor in a doctor’s office 

unavailing a girl’s deformed body; 

soon-to-be violated, deformed body. 

They pile in; the girl rumored born 

an atrocity, born missing muscles 

and ribs, with lungs unhinged 

from her eight-year-old frame. 

Constantly her knowing in her

eight-year-old brain.

She wasn’t normal.

These people, lab coat hems brushing 

the floor, not marveling in awe, 

but in horror; I was the horror, 

I was forced to stand behind the 

glass. Still behind the glass, all while

notes were taken and hands ungloved.

You let them touch until contentment, 

no boundaries applicablet; a new generation 

promising repairs, yet resenting me, never sick 

of violating just a defective child meant to be

stared at by prying eyes that felt no pity 

Being laid upon a girl’s naked body; 

the one you told them to take turns touching. 

And touching. And touching. And touching

where my head was held under water until 

it gasped for air. And I will never understand how

You just sat there and made a touch tank out of me.