|
Skinny little sweet young
thing
too young to know solid
boundaries
but old enough to know
that she is getting
tired
of being alternatively
possessed and rejected
by the boy she is leaving
rapidly behind.
She meets danger in the
hallway.
Policy prohibits revelation
but
humanity dictates otherwise.
On human terms she meets
him
black hair brown eyes
silky voice
reading – Jesus
is this
guy for real? –
Walt Whitman in Spanish.
"I don't think you are
happy," he whispers,
over and over
giving voice to her most
secret thought (fear).
She is drawn in wide-eyed
and innocent,
her unbearably rigid life
deconstructing nightly.
Fear grips her.
Training, responsibility
twist her gut.
"I'd like to transfer
off this unit," she finally says,
face shining with pain
and shame
and trust.
She tells them about the
kiss.
She is fired on the spot.
So much for the
trust. |
