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Different boyfriends
for Aunt Cora. Phone
numbers. Addresses I
could never quite recall,
and if I did, there were
frequent reminders
frequent lectures
frequent warnings
not to share them,
because a stranger
could get hold of
them, might come
kidnap me away.
Hidden photos.
Hidden paperwork.
Hidden stories
about my family.
To protect me from
my mother. Father.
And who else is out
there? Who else might
want to know what
has happened to me?
SUCKER PUNCHED
I can’t find air, and it has nothing to do with illogical panic.
It’s shock. Pure. Simple. Rational. “How could you?”
How could they make me believe I was a throwaway?
Grandfather is completely white, and the folds
of his eyes crease with pain. Good. I want him to hurt,
like he and Aunt Cora have hurt me. I’m sorry, he says.
