She was sexually
molested by her father
as a child. Her sisters
never forgave her
for speaking up.
She holds
her life tightly in
her stomach, contains
it in one small room.
A space she can guard
from any angle.
She has no place to paint
her work is shoved
against the wall,
she cannot get anything
organized, cannot find
what she has.
Sometimes she lets the
dishes go, for a month
or more, until there
is noting left to eat
upon.
And then she spends
the weekend cathing
up.
Money comes hard
love even harder.
Jobs don’t pay
or bring reward,
cars break down,
and things dreamed
of stay just out of
grasp.