No, no, he didn’t rape me, the woman said,
he just kept going on, plied me with wine,
in the end I just gave in, slipped into his bed.
He was the partner of her friend. She fled
back home next day. She claims she’s fine.
No, no, he didn’t rape me, the woman said.
He’d not been violent or cruel, instead
he’d smiled, Oh, come on… was almost kind,
In the end I just gave in, slipped into his bed.
She feels so guilty, can’t get out her head
betrayal of a friend. I must be blind.
But no, he didn’t rape me, the woman said.
She shares her tale with me. Her eyes are red
and full of tears. I think the fault was mine —
in the end I just gave in, slipped into his bed.
The man in question’s now one step ahead;
found another woman, plays the same old line.
No…he didn’t rape me, this woman said,
in the end I just gave in, slipped into his bed.
Tonnie Richmond
Tonnie Richmond lives in Leeds and loves Orkney and archaeology. She has had poems published by The Storms, Black Nore, Up!, Dreamcatcher, Dawntreader and others and in various anthologies. Her first pamphlet, Rear-view Mirror, was published in Yaffle’s Nest in November 2023.
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