Little Sparrow (bird) painting by Gail Chandler
By Exotic Hippie Queen © 5/6/2016
His breath, hot and thick, a flaming cloud of Jack and menthol cigarettes, scorching my neck, a bird wilted by the blaze of sun.
His heat on me, smothering messenger of what is to come.
He gave me that day on the porch. No one saw but me. Fear stirred my soul.
his rough hands.
Skimming my trembly body. His push hard against me, force I hadn’t known.
fast away now.
Pounding heart. Pinned motionless, the struggle to stop him. useless.
those blue orchids,
wild birds I saw this morning,
all the U.S. presidents in order of their term,
the paisley wallpaper in gramma’s living room,
broken pencils…my favorite white shoes…daddy’s arms,
this must be science fiction.
remember how to forget this happened.
oh, he’s hurting me.
Biting, his hand over my mouth, tears racing down my cheeks, salt and sweat mingling
in the misery, in the reign of misery, in the rain of misery.
Where is the God of my prayers
my whispered bedtime prayers,
Whisper to this little bird.