In the night,
Voices are different
Dark twists words and ideas,
Until you see the contours of shadow
And your thoughts are heard so low and soft
They seem to have crept in, rather than been spoken
The world you know is now a spark of light
Seen from the bottom of a well...
________________________________________ __________________

A midnight thirst sent me paddling to the kitchen for a jelly-jar of water and an accidental run-in with my sister. She tiptoed in, late and limping, her cheek raw as red-brown meat.
I caught a quick glance in the chilly glow of the refrigerator before she had a chance to hide the latest souvenir her boyfriend gave her.
" I bruise easily"
is one of the lies she sprinkles like sugar.
But I'm thirteen, not brainless. Besides, I knew
the truth at ten. "He'll never do it again,"
she swears. But he will, because
she'll let him. Now, me?
I've got no use for lame excuses
or imitation love that packs a punch.