32nd and somewhere

32nd and somewhere

february chilled the block as if it sat on igloos

wondered where he found the lilies

opened petals seem to yell for Spring

they were my favorite flower

he seemed proud of himself

a little too proud

the crack in my skull was a little too loud

when his fist pounded into it

don’t remember what i did

or if it was something i didn’t do

i remember eating chicken stew in the same kitchen he raped me in

linoleum pattern pressed into my skin

being forced to grin and kiss him

before leaving

im glad his mother stopped checking on me

inviting me to tea

in that kitchen of kissed sin

©michele mitchell, 2013

Poetry Prompt:

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