This week’s prompt is about unfinished conversations. I have a few things, so let the stanzas start.
The Automatic Door
They stupidly stare
at one another
standing in the automatic door
of the small town grocer.
Three long years
of blue black silence
and here they meet.
She’s wearing the wrong
shoes for such
an auspicious moment.
His hat is too dirty.
Looking at her,
he only sees
stone grey eyes
he used to look down at
and small hands tiny scars
ink on the middle
finger of her right hand.
Behind her, the doors open
and close repeatedly until she
says goodbye again, an end,
and walks past him, onto the rain
soaked parking lot asphalt.
So, that is one unfinished conversation brought to a close. And here is another:
After the Storm
She tried to take it back, to convince
them that they had heard things, misunderstood.
Her mother and father would not brush
the accusation aside, and fired the babysitter
that evening, paddled her brother
but left her home alone with him.
There will be more bruises, terror,
all of it unseen, ignored even. They will wish
they’d never heard what she said
beneath her breath in the back seat
of the car. They’ll never tell her
what they told the babysitter
how she responded, and they always
suspect her of lying, because that is easier
than believing her truth.