was the last time
he was going to make me
bleed. Every step forward I was
walking barefooted on broken
glass. Every breath inhaled in his
field of wheat was gas.

The last time
I couldn't handle
his contempt. Exhausted from
my attempt to reach him. I was
just a leech swimming in the reeds
of a muddy lake, wrapping around
his foot like a creeper. Kicking me
off like a smelly old sneaker.

The last time
I was this small
I'd no body hair and crawl
on my mother's yellow diamond
tiled floor heading out
her kitchen door.

The last time
I saw his moon head and
tomato red face he was facing away
from me, barking like a mangy
dog up a tree. I slogged turning
a corner, hearing this heart murmur for
the last time.