By Margo Knox, 73. Gold Coast, QLD
It wasn’t an innocent gesture
The piercing whistle came from one
While the others nodded
The scaffolding blocked the footpath
A thankful roundabout walk of younger years
A safety switch from the predation of young men
Who did not see privilege in their action
But a right to covert the bodies of others
For their momentary pleasure
Every whistle penetrated my body.
Maybe it was a compliment
as some said
from a Mind of denial
that sees no outcome.
Just a momentary voicing
a primal force
Of capture and ownership
My body would tighten
First to my belly
Wrapping around my genitals
Up to my neck, shoulders and lastly
What a dangerous world
Is a walk to town
I was only 16.
I wonder if things have improved a little in this regard.