counting coup

imagine:

flying high above


as your body lies, pinned

by a man who brings candies


and calls you his favourite niece



on that single sized bed with a star blanket


dreams are bridges

 

memory:    

there are some things you forget

and things you remember


like the obsession with counting





how many tiles are on the ceiling


how many stitches on a quilt


how many seconds in the dark

 


fight:    

a screen door creeps open

a brown girl in a flower dress

slides against the wall


always keeps her backside hidden, safe

 

she peeks around the corner then runs at top speed

she tackles him, he flies backwards and lays there

his head oddly-angled on a cinder block door stop

his blood shot eyes rolled up inside a twisted head

candies spill from a brown bag on the dry earth

 

 she picks up one of the candies, unwraps it

and pops it into her mouth, smiling,

she finds the skip in her step

and never looks back

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