DECEMBER 1999

By Joy Clyne

As the hands of unwanted authority

Took my tiny hands

That fit into his single hand

Being led to the slaughter

Of fine décor of my living room

I wondered at my fear

Of sleeping in the dark


I lived in a house converted

To headquarters for dad

Because it was too big for four people

But he was determined to have it

And I conquered every space

To find the best hiding place

But today I was the one being conquered


For a second I find the courage

To look into his eyes

It was normal and welcoming

As we made our way

To the place that echoed

Laughter for a 1000 miles

It was made silent by the resounding

Slaps that made my ears

Ring for a week

When I dared to plead for mercy

From his carnal ways


I could be his daughter or little sister

I wondered as I gazed at the

White ceiling shaped like little boxes

Imagining a better world of peace

But I crash landed back to earth

By every brute force

And my core shaking like an earthquake


“Don't move” he said

As he made himself decent

To my immobile body

That did not need his command


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