|
Victim |
I am walking down a long
dark street, breathing
clouds in the cold air
the sound of my own
footsteps magnified
until an army of the
unknown surrounds me.
A shadow waits
at the end of the street.
The streetlamp cuts
a crescent of light
across one cheek
mined with stubble.
A red orb of ash glows
like a nova about to blow.
On the corner by the Five
and Dime a loud trio
of teenage boys tries out
dance moves, calling
to anyone who passes
looking for trouble
and finding it. Should I
cross the street or keep
walking and pretend not to hear?
Late one winter afternoon
the tall girl from math class
waits at my locker when everyone
has already gone, even the janitor.
Because it is my only weapon
I spew sharp syllables, though
everyone has assured me
they will break no bones.
Her fists land hard, with
the sound of a car crash when you
are the one behind the wheel or
the one racing across the street
on your bike and not quite
making it to the other side.
copyright 2013
Robbi
Nester |
