poem

my grandfather abused me sexually. 
i think it started at age three. 
it went until, i think, age ten--
i don't really remember then. 
i don't remember much at all,
about the spring, about the fall,
about the things i did and saw,
of what i was and what would be.

he did it to me with his fingers,
he did it when his eyes would linger.
he did it to me from behind,
he did it to me in my mind.
he did these things, i cannot say,
because i have no memory
except inside my body, stayed
like ravening dogs inside a fence
until one slips the leash
and turns me again to nothing
and then it's back behind the wall
and i don't know if i can believe in it

for years i thought i was crazy--
so sad, so sad unreason'bly.
i did not know why i felt lost,
my body like a hanging corpse
around my mind, mind also dim
with pain, and pain, and pain's rhythm--
forgetting what i had to lose
in order to be a good daughter

now i know, and sometimes believe
these things inside my memory--
i know them true, somewhere within,
even when all inside's a din,
or else deny, call self insane,
and feel mind snap like a twig     it would be easy        just water             it's just water