Every Girl Should Have a Poem Written for Her (13)

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R___

I’m lost.

I can’t find my way home.

Maybe I’m there.

Maybe I’m gone.

I’m lost

In the clutter:

Mother’s photos—

Sister’s trinkets—

Grandmother’s tales—

I’m lost.

In the ammonia stink of cat piss—

The foil on the windows—

The dust asleep on the floor—

The cramped maze of the hall.

I can’t find my way out

Through the inherited memories of

A father crippled, un-whole—

Absent—

Granny on the porch—

Gun leveled—

Running—

I’m lost.

I can’t find my way there.

Through the running.

The running to fly.

Running to claws.

Running to shreds.

Running to nothing.

I’m lost.

In the fleeing.

The wedding.

The trail taking me far

Far away.

The knife at my throat—

A man guarded by

Army regalia.

I can’t find my way home.

Through the screaming

And the flight

And the running

Back

Into Mother’s arms—

Lock

and

Key.

It is here.

I will never be here.

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