Thursday, September 9, 2010

vi: pauline

i guess that's the point of it all
my mama said when she found out i was pregnant
body against body, fluid intertwining with fluid
what else would you expect
than a tomato-red, dripping baby with the voice of a banshee

it's god's will, you know
my papa told me when i came home with bruises on my collarbones
and he came in with a bottle of jack and a pair of dirty diapers
what else would you expect
from a trash, goodfornothing girl like me

i always knew this would happen
my brother said under his voice when he was driving us home
on I-10 after he had just gotten out of state penitentiary
what else would you expect
than a few busted heads with pools of blood collecting near the gutters

why did you let him do this to me
my daughter asked me, her eyes bigger than our fake chinese plates
her teddy bear almost dismembered from how tightly he was being held
what else would you expect
from a man whose twisted, broken eyes could not focus on nothing else except innocence

now here we are, and here we are
on a rickety old bed
that hasn't seen the warmth of flesh for more than a year
what else would you expect
what else could you accept


No comments:

Post a Comment