With Open Eyes

Brown 7 Jane Relaford Brown With Open Eyes I. I never used to like to look. You say you always do, wouldn't think of having sex while you're not keeping watch. Your father's was the first face memorized. I want to watch your eyes but I learned too long ago to hide, when five or seven men took me to a room, played cards for me, and came in order of the highest hand. They said white girl hippies swallow anything, but I was grateful for their drugs, because the same numb that meant I couldn't run meant I couldn't feel them touching me. The winner grinned at me, said "thank you" as he zipped his pants. There was a window to the right. I learned to look right through, so if they didn't speak the others didn't speak— I could just wait 8 the minnesota review till they were through, and almost be alone. I lived that night by listing what I saw beyond the frame— Moon, Tree, Cloud, Car— then shutting up my eyes to memorize the names. Moon Tree Cloud Car. Moon, who shines soft on me. Tree, I could climb. Cloud, that could hide me, car, that could drive me away from that room. II. with my closed eyes, One lover thought me passionate, transported by his skill, another screamed at me to look. She knew she wasn't holding me. I whispered "moon," and ran. Sometimes I've tried to look, and found some stranger with his eyes rolled back, turned inward, focused on his thrusting into space, the empty space I'd left for him. Sometimes I've found that gaze again, the one I saw before I thought to look away into the window's frame: intense precision peering like a hunter down his sights at me, just before the trigger squeeze. Brown 9 Twenty years, and still, I turn my head just right, my cheek against the sheet the way it was that night, I close my eyes and whisper, "Moon, Tree, Cloud, Car," and climb, crying "Moon," through the window again to the place I can't be touched. But with your hands, your tender hands on me and in, your fingers drawing me to safety in your cupped hand's nest I nestle in, and find myself with new desire— I look, and find your eyes so softly seeing me, and how they wait with such a gentle watch, asking how to better touch, and how you brighten when I reach to cup your cheek and whisper "Moon. Moon, who shines so soft." ...