Shamed

When I was no younger than you
they used to slap me silly
with a wooden yardstick.
I'd scream so loud
my screams pierced
the suburban skies.
And our nosy neighbor,
in her burlap,
peered through our kitchen window.
And, as always, they'd smile
and pull the curtains shut
with angry hands.
Now they have found
a more hurtful way
Far worse
than my father's yardstick.
A scream not loud enough
for our neighbor to hear.
I know it
when they refuse to look at me.