At Cresent Park
       

His hot hand hitting my face. My father had come in
to check on me and found the bundle of clothes

under the covers where my body should have been.
So, fine. I'd snuck out. I'd seen a girl.

Is there such thing as love behind a father's force?
Just an hour after a girl

traced my thigh with her feather-light touch,
he yanked my hair so hard I fell. His voice a whisper:

Get your ass into bed. I lay down, cheek stained
and scalding. Shut my eyes, pictured

the girl's face, her sideways smile.
Her quiet I want to kiss you

Everywhere. The way she looked at me,
crooked-lipped, when I joked In Kansas City?

In Griswold, Iowa? She laughed. At the Dairy Queen?
Yes, she vowed. Everywhere.

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from Southern Indiana Review
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