restraining order

I saw you from your car

camera pressed up against glass

white hairs in beard

watching

and at first I laughed

and told all my friends

about you and your camera

but now I’m sick to my stomach

it’s slowly sinking in

that I had to call the police

and get a restraining order

and that I’m scared

how many videos did you take?

how many photos?

maybe you are the eery presence

that engulfs my life

always next door

waiting

and what about Olive?

my precious sister

she was only eleven

when she saw you in the yard

with your camera

while she played volleyball

and part of me

has always trusted you

you and your husband

and your beautiful garden

you let us pick blackberries in

I thought you were gay

but you’re just a fucking pedophile

and now I’m thinking back

on every single time

I felt a presence

or walked through the kitchen

in a sports bra and shorts

and I feel sick

and I’m waiting for the call

to come to the station

and identify the photo

of me doing Pilates

on my bedroom floor

in my underwear

taken from the cracks

in my window’s blinds

I keep expecting to see you

around every corner