Jian Gomeshi, I am thinking of you
and how small you must feel
Like a pea in your pod
Of this Big Ears Teddy stuff, that will
tear you up
Of the Big Ears my grandmother knitted me who I called Charlie
Of talking to you two summers ago
And listening to the tape just now,
with a high fever and a sick father
And your father dead.
I listen to myself talk over you and cringe: you were so nice!
Of two smiles, one beneath your own poster when I passed you at the CBC
One, with glassy eyes, at a book launch.
When I was 17, my boyfriend, Mark Berry, hit and punched me;
He tried to break my arm and kicked me; forced me to have sex
Through coercion so it doesn’t count
so it doesn’t count so it doesn’t count so it doesn’t count so it doesn’t count
so it doesn’t count
I am managing to feel sad for you, not him,
As another girl may feel about Mark, not you,
So it doesn’t count that I remember
your radiant face looking into the future
As I, fired just days before, had turned Charlie to a wall
He shouldn’t have to see this.