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Poem

It's time.

The two times before
Were tests
To see if she could
Identify the moment
When she should leave.

It's time.

The words
Buzzed in her head
Over and over
As she tucked the last items
In the bag she had prepard.
A bag similar to the one
An expectant mother would have ready,
But she would never
Need that particular bag,
He made sure of that.

It's time.

It was 10am,
He had been gone
The better part of three hours.
The longest three hours of her life.
She waited patiently,
Just in case he came home
For some forgotten tool or document.

It's time.

She slipped out the back door
And scaled two neighbours' fences
Before entering the street.
With her hat pulled down low
She made her way to the bus station.
It was time to leave town.

It's time.

She bought a ticket to California,
Los Angeles to be specific.
She would become a lost angel
In the city of angels.

It's time.

As she waited for the bus,
She heard a car shrieking
To a stop outside.
She shrank into her seat,
But it was for nought,
As cruel hands
Pulled her from her seat.

It's time.

First came a slap,
Then another,
And by the time the ticket agent
Came out to pull him away from her
He was punching her.

It's time.

He shrugged off the agent
And ran to her,
But by that time 
She had pulled out
Her grandpappy's Smith & Wesson,
And with shaking hands
She lodged a bullet
In his heart.

It's time.

The gun was a present 
From her momma,
And from the day she got it
She practiced on old toys
Behind the abandoned toy factory.
She practice until it was time.
Today, the time came
And it tuly was time.

It's time
For her abusive husband to die.

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