Part I: The Little Fat Girl

by Faith G

She pretends not to be there.
Crouching in the corner;
the fat little girl with the large black eyes;
so intent on watching his upper arm muscles
expand and contract
as he tosses the first
of two drawers of clothing
halfway across the room.

He gets this way on Fridays,
when he goes to Pepe's.
Usually lasts the weekend.
But when he goes to the garage on Mondays
it becomes another Saturday Night dream.

Still, it's better than when
her momma's away,
when he grabs her and kisses her cheeks
over and over again
with his slobbery lips and puckered mouth.
She wipes the spit away with the back of her hand
but the wet dirt won't go away.

And better too,
than the days he flings the back of his hand
across her mouth, calling her stupid
like he calls her grandma.

She longs to be kidnapped,
taken away to the country,
with grass and trees
and dogs and cats
like the ones he won't let her have.
Where she can have all the comic books
and candy she wants.

She sleeps alot.
That's her world.
He can't take that away;
though some days he tries.