Danielle White Poet Bio

Harden Street, 1958 (Part Three)

con't

So Chris and I became aware
very young
that she really didn't care

and might even watch us die
without blinking an eye.

Our goal was to survive
until we were

old enough to be missed

should her control slip
or temper ignite
on some hot summer night.

We were never free
of her clutches
we'd cringe when
she'd touch us

but we would have given our lives
to have seen love in her eyes.

Poor beautiful Chris
with all his gifts
on him she focused
her perversion
her daily diversion.

I flew low and tried
not to be seen,
off her radar screen
as much as I could.

Maybe it would have been better
if we'd stuck together...

but for me he had nothing
but disdain,
this he made plain.
Instead of brotherly love,
he'd slap and shove.
They'd go to their
Thursday night meeting
and I would inevitably
receive a beating.

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