A poem.

---

i look at you
and then i look at your daughter
and i see a man who will do anything.

a man too self-consumed
putting prosperity on the table, not food,
that he can’t make any productive difference in her life.
only fifteen, already too late
with shorts that leave nothing to hide,
a glare through deep holes entwined
so you can’t see the fear they leave behind.

Continue reading →