Small Square Window
I was afraid of her.
I suspected the secrets she hid.
She repeated “with this dollar, I thee wed”.
She slept only until she was awakened
By the sound of her own voice, and the crunch of snow under her father’s boot
The echo traveled to her center
Buried all softness
Her dress caught on the corner of a table
Buttons flew into the air
She stood, unprotected and screamed "stand up straight and don't let it own you".
She breathed belief into it, and left it there to die
The light poured through the small square window, a visage darkened time
The mouth bigger than the space it occupied
They have come for her and she will go. She is already gone.
Copyright © Janet Lorenzo | Year Posted 2015
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