Nicole Caruso Garcia
Annual Giving Don’t ask me for an annual donation When I fought daily for my resurrection. What would he have to do to face expulsion? Would he have had to violate your daughter? Would he have had to desecrate your altar? I dropped the class we’d planned to take together. You had a reputation to protect. Rape is a prickly word; thus, the verdict: Responsible for Sexual Misconduct. You levied sanctions—flimsy, every one— Mere inconvenience. Hampering his fun. He didn’t break a rule; he broke a person. To live off-campus senior year? No loss. Kicked off the golf team, no more captain status. Banned from buildings where he had no classes. To see his Judas face kept trauma fresh: His force the day they nailed our Savior’s flesh. And now you call me up and ask for cash. What shepherd says, Oh injured lamb, be healed: The wolf is just a dog. He’s not expelled— We’ll keep him to one corner of the field. Was it because I hadn’t told my parents, And his—despite their lack of affluence— Hired lawyers? Asked to verify the contents Of a file compiled by those strangers, I saw there, held by wire fasteners, A punctured stack of all my love letters.
Crab Orchard Review
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