From the collection published in 2021, And Don’t Come Back.
I Am Guilty and That Is Why I Will Always Break Under Interrogation
…but you came up the stairs.
You remember. You screamed.
Mercy, what a racket!
And look what you made me do!
Rebuked and held responsible for
the clang-slosh of the pail hurtled down the stairs
the spray and flood of gray squeezed-out-mop water
(and there were others jolted too: I was sure I heard
the startled skitter of cockroach feet on wood floor
frantic in a rush to escape behind a baseboard)
Eventually
the entropy of the situation tired itself out.
I let the insects be. I let her voice be:
How you startled me! and this carpet
what a first-class squelchy mess
Mold problem in progress no doubt
and I think the color has run
It’s all your fault. Come here.
(Grabs my arm and pulls me.)
Tell me what’s the matter
her narrow eyes searching mine
with a suspicious look I don’t much like
Tell me
she gives vicious squeeze to my forearm
near my elbow
that I thought would leave a bruise
Tell. Me.
She says it
Very calm very quiet
very much ready to take it further.
I tell her.
6/4/20
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
Great title, and an upsetting piece.
Thank you. I’m familiar with the situation in this poem though it’s firmly in the long ago past.
I’m glad it’s in the past.
I worked with a woman whose mother would pinch her under the arm and not let go until a confession was made. She told me that she would confess everything real or imagined just to be released.
I’m familiar with a variation on that.
Oye! Sorry.
Long time ago now and I am grown up and no one is ever going to pinch me again! and I never will let anyone say that pinching someone is harmless, though people seem to think so.
What people think compared to the reality of the situation are universes apart.