On a day when we honor fathers and everything becomes goodness and light; golf balls and BBQs, let me share more poetry which echo some other people's truths.
The Pact
She squirms
She cries out
No one hears
As he crams his anger into the vessel that has to listen
She rips
She bleeds
He is relieved
Tears plead
As the last seed is pumped
Into his daughter's body
The pain once knotted in his chest gone--gone
He has forgotten the pact
The one from the beginning
The one where he swore to protect his little girl
*******************
Daddy's Girl
Her customer slides off his pants
Change dances in his pockets
As she reaches behind to unclasp her bra
Her cheeks no longer flush crimson
As her garments fall
Exposing young breasts
"So anything goes for $50, huh?"
"Anything"
Arms motion her to him
And he tugs off her underwear
Her father briefly looms before her
His lips, his tongue, his fingers, his hands
Wincing at his touch
She crams her eyes shut--blots him from thoughts
As she violently thrusts her hips to meet his
Grinding hips and tightening vaginal muscles
Will bring it closer
Familiar grunts emerge and signal it
the beginning of the end
Using her head for leverage
His hands pull and tangle her hair
Faster, he jams and pounds
Crushing her chest
Tearing her pinkness
Finally he ends
But with the end, there is beginning
And her father is always waiting
Waiting for his girl
3 comments:
This is very familiar terrain. Nicely done. We should all sign our names to this if this was our childhood.
I am very sorry this is familiar terrain.
But as I said on your blog, our life experiences make us who we are. So for that, I am grateful... as sick as that might sound.
K
K, you and Utah are two of the bravest women I've ever "known." It doesn't sound sick, K. It sounds like a woman who has come to terms with her life through acceptance and strength.
You both awe me.
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