Fallout (Crank 3)

I’d already been

pushed aside by

my mother

and my father.

I’d already lost

my Grandpa Carl

and Grandma Jean.

I’d already been

shuffled through

one foster home,

another, one more.

That was the fourth.

Why didn’t anyone want me?

What was wrong with me?

What if that place

was my last chance?

Was that what it took

for someone to care?

No, I never told.

Another girl did.

MY BODY

Healed quickly. But the wound

to my psyche was deep.

Wide. First aid, too little, too late,

left me hemorrhaging inside,

the blood unstaunched by psychological

bandage or love’s healing magic.

Eventually it scabbed over,

a thick, ugly welt of memory.

I work to conceal it, but no matter