"Here is the cycle and this is what begot it:
          he touched me in cars. Nights we drove
                    only to stop by the water, so still our shadows
made sounds. Light from the lake broke
          from his fingers. Once, a cruiser found us.
                    I was asked if I was safe. I knew
nothing. I said yes."

— Alison Stine, “Chairs,” from Ohio Violence (via bostonpoetryslam)