And you wonder where you’re going, purse at your side
full of a dead weight. The hands in front of you

like strangers with switchblades. They’re trying to mug

you. Trying to steal your identity. You hug your skin
tighter. Blood leaving face. Eyes like you always knew

they would be. Wide and terrified. Beautiful

against the red brick. This is your cue
to scream for help. Remember what they always say.

Scream fire, not rape, or no one will respond.

So you scream fire and no one responds. They just stop
what they’re doing and stare. Eyes fucking you

from every corner. Every shop window. You remember

the story about the woman stabbed 41 times
outside her apartment building. How all the tenants

interviewed said they heard screaming and turned

up the volume on the television, went to sleep. It is now
you realize you’re alone. The hands in front of you

your own, just sharper. More convincing in this light.