by Anita McQueen
Slant of darkness
turning me over in my bed
face in my pillow
breasts and belly against the mattress
hard to breathe
afraid of the ceiling caving in
with all my sin
wanting soon
the daylight window
blurring it away with blinding brightness
not crying anymore
little girl gone
a woman now
getting dressed to dance down the stairs
slurping a bowl of cold cereal
aiming for my hot heart
forgetting the night and the night to come
I chat with the neighbors
catching the bus to tease my boss
another paycheck not quite enough
weekend coming with party after party and agonizing guilt.
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