I wonder

if my rapist has been watching the news.

I wonder
if he has been following the election.

Wonder if
Donald Trump is his main man.

I wonder
if he felt justified for the things he did to me and so many others,
when he heard our possible president boast
about sexual assault.

I wonder
how much he smiled when half the country egged Mr. Trump on.

I wonder
if he went to the polls
feeling more free than I have
since age 6 when he first touched me.

I wonder
if he thought about me.
If he thought about how easy it is
to get away with rape in America.
And if he was giddy that his leader would finally
be like him.

I wonder
if the people who love me
but voted for Trump
would feel anything
when I told them that I wake with night terrors
as I imagine living under the power of a man
who shares the same shallow eyes as my abuser.

I wonder
if this poem will make people uncomfortable.
If they would rather hear the words
of a perpetrator
than the words of a survivor.

And I wonder
if those will be the same people
that will go on and say
that rape culture does not exist.
All the while sporting a
“Trump can grab my pussy” T-shirt.

I wonder
if my rapist
will sleep soundly
another night.
If America will
cover their eyes and ears
another day.
If they will hear and see
NO evil but speak their
piece of hate.

I wonder if anyone will hear me.

I wonder if anyone will care to.