Standing

“Girl, get over here.

You heard me.”

Except I don’t want to hear,

And I don’t want to stay.

And that stench of tobacco and lies

Is falling out of your mouth

Like a musty grave

Opened for the first time in years.

Your hands wrapping around my tiny arms

Fingers like sausages

Squeezing

Hurting

Let me go

I want to beg,

But I am choking back my tears.

Afraid to disappoint

Afraid to cry

Afraid to exist

Too young to run

I stand quietly

Until spoken to

My heart tucked gently underneath

The soles of my velcro tennis shoes

It’s the only place that you can’t reach

Without getting up.

So I wait

Hand and foot

I deliver each request

Quietly hoping that my mother returns

But she doesn’t, and she won’t

For three days.

But when she does

she will stand over me

Like a makeshift shelter

Letting my heart out for air

Nothing permanent,

But sturdy enough.

And we will make do

In each others company

I just have to get through

These three days.

Until she picks up my shelter

And goes again

To leave me standing

In a place that I don’t want to be