A touch on the thigh.
A touch on the neck.

You would think
these were wanted.
You would think
this was affection.

But the touch came from
a person of trust.
A supposed person of trust.

A hand on my shoulder.
A gaze down my legs.

Why would you think
this would happen instead

The push off the thigh.
The squirm from the neck.
The hiding of legs
from the touch
of your stare.

You would think
this was a stranger.

But this wasn’t a stranger.

This was a man
that I called
Dad.