My View From Under the Table

Watch as she shatters, her world torn to pieces with each punch. Watch, as in the early morning hours, a childhood is stolen. A little girl forever changed.

She put herself to bed that night.
Only eleven, but she’s learned
to fend for herself by now.
She awakens to doors slamming, 
belligerent yelling.

She’s seen the purple arms,
and the blackened eyes.
But tonight she’ll discover 
how they got there—
just how cruel this world can be.

Her eyes scan the house, noting 
the bags of white powder in the open safe,
the holes in the wall,
the fear in the air.

She can’t find the phone,
to call for help, for safety, for
all of this to be untrue.
“If you call the cops, they’ll take you away,” he says.
Her mother screams.

Under the kitchen table,
her dog and cat cower, shaking.
She climbs under too.
“It’s okay guys.”
She wishes it was true.
The yelling gets louder, closer.
They flee.
She’s alone.

She watches in slow motion
the commotion.
One, two, three, four.
He’s going to kill her!
“Stop it!”
The blood-curdling scream falls
on deaf and defiant ears.

Watch as she shatters, 
her world torn to pieces with each punch.
Watch, as in the early morning hours,
a childhood is stolen.
A little girl forever changed.

This is only the first time.

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