Whiplash

I could remember the days
when men's eyes
swept my form
and I could hear clearly,
unspoken words falling
from hungry mouths.
I felt my flesh tingle,
as when searching lips
had once brushed
against the prospect
of my attentions.

And now,
as I lay on the ground,
wounded,
after the attempted murder
of my dignity,
I sensed a thousand eyes
sweeping my form.
I heard them clearly;
unspoken words
falling from gaping mouths
and I could see flesh crawl
and lips purse.

Afterwards,
I didn't believe
their soft words and platitudes,
for I had felt it;
the whip of their lashes
across my back
as they quickly turned
their eyes away.

? Christine Magee 2003