…Hardened…
She’s still.
The way a child shouldn’t be.
She hasn’t been heard
She hasn’t been seen.
So she’s still.
Taking in the comfort of someone curling her hair.
5 minutes ago I was a stranger.
But it doesn’t matter.
“They’re drinking tonight, and they’ll be here soon.”
She puts up her hood and the walls follow.
“They drink everyday.”
Comfortable is dangerous.
She’ll push away with words that sting.
Guarded and untouched, ready.
8:30 comes too soon.
But it comes anyway.
blair Roberts Said:
on January 25, 2008 at 4:25 pm
hey carly,
maybe this is ignorant to ask, but are these your poems?
carlystraker Said:
on January 27, 2008 at 12:08 am
Hey Blair,
Its okay to ask – yes, they are mine.
I met that little girl on Monday night when I was at the North Central Family Center.