Fingerprints

By Shannon Pilipetskii

I can't remember

Everything in the exact order

Of occurrence, jumbled

And speckled - as a spotty

Reminder of my naïveté

He dipped his fingertips

In my hips so hard

It left fingerprints

As he picked me up

And plopped me down

Like a toy, carelessly

But calculating

I pushed my weight down

And back as I tried to

Tip myself left or right

Any which way that meant

OFF

Any which way that meant

NO

He flipped me over

Threw me down

He climbed atop and pushed

Everything he had to restrain me

And he laughed like it was a game

That he was winning

Like a decathlon he trained

His entire life for

A trophy covered in fingerprints

And smeared black eyeliner.

Shannon Pilipetskii writes from an unapologetically truthful perspective. Her poetry has been published by Oddball Magazine and Boned Stories. You can find more of her work on Instagram @shannonwrightfully