Mostly she doesn’t remember

but this

hiding under the porch stairs

like a frightened dog.

The mother, who cannot reach her,
bares her teeth, screaming.
The girl knows 
it is all her fault.
Mothers like good girls
pretty girls.

No one tells her differently.
They are afraid.

The woman huddles on the floor
makes herself small, silent.
The man’s eyes blaze
screaming
it is all her fault.
Men like good girls
pretty girls.

She hears the echo.