I dread 2nd and King to this day.

I was born into a poor family:
dad the drunkard,
mom the **** addict,
brother abusive,
and sister wrist slitter,
in '84.

Mealtime portions measly.
The house's fragmented windows,
chipping paint
and carpet, ash stained beyond cleaning,
forced me to attempt an escape
several times.
Its a wonder we had a house at all!
I was the only one who worked.

From 10:00 until 7:00
in the dead of winter I used to stand
in clothes so thin
I was better off not even wearing them.
In '97 I was too young to work
legally.
But I wasn't too young for the men-
and I admit, some attractive-
who would pull up to
2nd and King.
I just crawled in the backseat,
assumed the position,
and took my beating
for not being born to the right family,
class,
city,
house...
...... corner...
..................men...
...........................­..­....

I can't look at that sign
marking the corner
without thinking of
crotch after crotch
until it was etched in my brain
that the male genitalia
was the epiphany of evil.
I have to turn my head.

I dread 2nd and King to this day.

I try to think poetically
Combine words in ways
That jump off the page
And into the heart of the reader

But I can't.

Instead I'm left alone with my thoughts
All jumbled and pressing against
The bones of my skull
Imprisoned only by my naive tongue.

How dare you
Trample over my garden
Suppressing the lovely young buds from reaching the solar rays
You! Boisterous and inconsiderate
No different than a creature from the stone age
I take that back even they are smarter because they invented the wheel

1719

God is indeed a jealous God—
He cannot bear to see
That we had rather not with Him
But with each other play.