Friday, September 5, 2008


She seemed clean for a hitchhiker. Sometimes the abuse was easy to see, with her you had to look hard. It was there, in the way she paused just before speaking. As if, balancing up high, and a deep breath, in or out, mattered.


Tyrone loved the taste of her mouth
When she'd been drinking.
She hated the taste of their mouths
In the morning.
Tyrone should have beat her
Like her father did.
She would have forgiven him
Like his mother did.


Tyrone had tigers
In his tummy,
Gremlins in his head
And icecicles between
His toes.
She knew that being submissive
Allowed her to be petulant.
Tyrone courted these monsters.
Pride was her bump
In the night.