Not Her Hand

Not Her Hand

An 11-year-old tomboy
With skinned knees
Who loves to run free
Not yet a woman
Asleep in her bed

A pale blue bedroom
With skates and diaries
Jeans and sneakers
Blue ribbons for swimming
And spelling

It is twilight
She lies in bed between sleep and wakefulness
A touch on her body where it should not be
Awake now, eyes open, mind confused

Is she touching herself?
Where are her hands?
They are at her side

She is touched
But it’s not her hand
Panic and racing thoughts
She rolls over

It happens many more times
She is touched
Where she should not be
By a hand not her own

The tomboy is a woman
In someone else’s eyes
And someone else’s hands