Kindra M. Austin – Prayers failed
I heard
her troubled murmurs
tangled with the
soft gravel of a man’s voice;
his name was Not My Dad,
and he was dancing
with my mom
in the too bright kitchen, down the hall.
Their shadows came in waves,
crashing
into the darkness
beneath my bedroom door.
They’d just finished fucking,
out in his van.
I wondered if she’d fucked them all—
his friends were there,
laughing.
Laughing.
Laughing at my mom.
I remained in my bed,
swearing to a god
that I’d never let her suffer
again.
But she did,
and I stopped praying.
cabbagesandkings524 