Jangle of coins in cash register
sends me lunging for a place to hide.
Everyone stares and shakes their head.
Guy on the corner puts a quarter
in the paper machine and I stumble.
Coins. . .
He used to come home from the mill,
pull down his coveralls and do things
to me no little girl should have to endure.
Covering my face with his roughened hands.
When he was finished he would pull the jeans
so that the change in his pocket rattled
like stones in a bucket.
Night coins and bloodied nose.
In a list
A contest entry
- Abuse by InMyFlames.
1500 points, ended February 12, 2008, 25 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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"He used to come home from the mill,
pull down his coveralls and do things
to me no little girl should have to endure."
That is so awful! I hope that this is not true for you. He should be hung upside down by his you-know-what. I shouldn't be reading this; it really upsets me.
The association of the coins jingling is chilling.
Congrats on the trophy!
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I can relate to the feeling of hearing coins as well. You captured it so well.
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Very powerful piece here!!! You have definately captured the fear that triggers can bring forth!! Best of luck in the contest!
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use is so wrong and this really tuged at my heart. it holds deep and thoughtful words. a beautifuly write
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Triggers oh how I can so relate to these. What an amazing write no one should ever have to go through this. Abuse of anykind needs to be stopped!
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I love you you used the sound of coins to evoke a memory and how you placed the poem in the past
This is so deep and meaningful
Great job!
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very well done, its scary that men do this type of stuff to children and women, well done and thankyou for this beautiful entry
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