How Could She Choose Him? Why Didn’t She Leave?

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.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s