Miss Hannah

Bitten morning breath spilled from the door. Defeated in her sanctuary, curled, wire hard. “You’re a wicked and evil man.” The keep, magpie hoard, cradling her wretched. Bowed, stripped of quarrel, enrobed in argent. “I was a young girl here.” Stripping decadence reveals chattels of girlhood. Eye-wide recall, affection and hurt alike. “That belonged to my father” Savage day, had carved through bone and home. A veneer revealed. A void anew. Cleansed of squalor, Stripped of refuge. Night had found her destitute. “This isn’t how it should be”