The Window


Behind the curtain
Of the open window
She stands quiet—
Eyes averted, head bowed.

She turns to peek,
Then snaps back
At the sound of kicks
And high neighs.

There were father’s words,
“It’s not fit a girl watch.”
But more than his words,
She fears forbidden things.

While mother lived,
There were games
In the front parlor
At times like this.

Now at sixteen, She’s
Woman of this house,
And likely soon,
Woman of another.

She slams the sash against
The neighs and thuds of kicks,
But most of all, the shouts
And men’s coarse laughter.


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