Finally I just close my eyes,
waiting for what events may unfold
as her mother’s rusty and unkempt
car strays more in the grass than the
lines of their driveway as she pulls
out.
Don’t let her mother leave so soon
in the night while she’s tucked away
in the shadows already awaiting
her arrival.
Don’t let her mother come home
worse than the night before,
blurred of what she did yesterday
or two minutes ago, don’t let her mother
leave her to fend for herself in a world
that weeps cruelty in places
least expected.
He left, but her mother didn’t.
Her mind was too old to erase it.
Don’t hurt her, forced to stray along
the only broken path given to her.
Don’t expect her to turn a bad
situation into good.
Her brain is already fuzzy with
the thought of being alone.
Her bedsheets drip with her
mothers scent, sharp and painful.
I think to myself that one day,
the towering white house
made for a family will crumble,
along with it a fragile doll finally
caught up with her own thoughts.