EL­IZ­A­BETH JOHN­STON

When I’m Twelve, My Mother Tells Me She Was Raped

Room Magazine - - CONTENTS - EL­IZ­A­BETH JOHN­STON

Creek bed like a sig­na­ture scrawl­ing be­tween us, my mother on the other side, clutch­ing her truth. Catch, she said, and threw it across. Catch and keep it close. Bury it be­hind your teeth. All these years, her se­cret: stone heavy in the pocket of my cheek.

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