| The Shack With The Yellow Shell Sign
The shack with the yellow Shell sign. Raindrops falling from the roof. Tiny drops in the sand. A shack as long as she lived. Her worn dress caked with mud. The children have left. Walking strange, new roads. Crossed a bridge she would never see; she can only think about today; food, he not too drunk, his fists. Raindrops fall from the roof, sick people, falling like stars as she waits for him to come home, scrubbing the remains of a dress, the water foul, bloody scabs, prints of his boots, soaked, and his hell and fire-raising brain. The shack, yellow Shell sign. Nailmarks in the doorpost. Her nails. His nails. |
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