If I possessed a phone back then,
would it help or hinder?
They’re calling it ‘disclosure’.
Those men were ten years older.
They said it was a party,
I believed them.
Would the phone show “asking for it”,
“look at what she did and said,
dirty girls deserve to learn a lesson”?
If I had had a mobile phone,
would it show Authority that teenage promiscuity
is often born of need? Of hunger for affection,
love in any currency?
A fight against morality?
And if it did, would it say
my body is my business, not to be dismissed
and narrowed down, opened up,
one unbroken flow of always yes and never no?
Would the bottle of Bacardi that they gave me
be on Instagram?
Evidence of ever more debauchery?
Perhaps there would be photos of me
sprawled across the bed, dead drunk,
limbs numb, and unable to co-ordinate defence.
Perhaps there would be videos, diminishing No’s,
and the noises men make.
Distance doesn’t medicate
or mediate the damage done;
tranquillity’s impossible for some,
I’m thirty years older.
They said it was a party
but it wasn’t.