By Dianne Moritz

Teasing the dog
Back behind
The chicken coop
To distract myself
From loneliness,
Stench of the farm,
Uncle’s mongrel seized
My thin wrist, bit down hard.
My cries were smothered
In boozy serves-you-rights,
While blood spilled,
Staining my summer smock.
Auntie brought me milk
Straight from a cow.
I ran to the rusty sink,
Spit it out as Mother’s hand
Shot out, slapped me hard.
I raced outside.

The slam of that screen door
Still echoes …

Dianne Moritz dreams of publishing a drabble collection one day. She writes poetry for kids and is a frequent contributor to Highlights children’s magazines.

5 thoughts on “Six

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