Just A Little Look

The smell of drunk stuck 

to him. I never knew my uncle Dub 

to be sober.

When he looked into my eyes, 

breath escaped my stomach like 

I was sucker-punched.

And Dub had 

an engorging interest

in preteen me.

My #1 rule - 

never get stuck in a room

alone with Dub. 

Everyone had gone to the living room.

I was sat on a high kitchen stool,

my feet dangling above the tiles.

He knew I was alone,

and asked me to spread my legs.

He said he wanted "just a little look."

In that kitchen, on that high stool,

I took back my breath, and plunged.

After landing, I ran to my mother.

She chatted with my aunt, cigarette 

dangling from her mouth, oblivious

to my scrape with the nightmare.