She waits in the room’s hungry silence,
watching the window’s sweet pain.
She clutches the prism of violence
and rubs at the edge of the stain.
How many times has she come here,
only to go back again?
How many names does she whisper
to the fear that twists in her veins?
Down Mulberry Road they are waiting,
now she’s lost in the last of her games.
A girl with her dolls and her dresses.
A girl they all called Lucy Jane.
.
David Ward
.