Lori was one of those girls
A laugh like wind chimes, open belly ears
hungry for music.

That first night, mother found Lori sleeping in the closet
Using her clothes as a bunker
As she hid against the night
Mother camped outside listening for secrets
When she heard sobs hiccupping through the doorway
Mother dared not look inside

On Lori’s 10th birthday,
Mother found her in the bathroom cutting her hair
She watched the strands fall away like flower
Petals blanketing the floor
Each sheer of her scissors a
She loves me - she loves me not

She loves me - she loves me not

Mother remembers how she
Burrowed in her brother’s clothes
How she brought a “friend” for a play date
Batted her eyes like hearts beating for blood
Each beat a blink, it was a date

One day, mother sits her down
With a trembling voice, she asks
“sweetheart, are you…”
And Lori responds,

“Mom, yes!
I am a poet!”
With a pen for a tongue
Lines on her thighs like rungs on a ladder
Each step a poem
She’s licking her wounds
A tender heart in a harsh world
Desperately searching for something to search for
And every time she
Holds someone’s hands
Her fickle fingers are gripping at affection
Gripping at something to write about
Yes, she is a poet
With hearts for eyes
Falling in love every time she looks at someone