she goes home to a loud, bawdy house
punches being thrown into proud mouths
the stain of blood in the walls, on the couch
bandages soaked in leaves, a superstition
the girl was far too modern to live in the old
(she leaves her shoes outside the screen door)
her father was a fighter in the streets
the best in New Orleans, legendary
the champ, the raccoon, the doll master
her mother collects the bills from bets
stuffs them inside her breasts when pockets
become too full of dirty cash, she says
they've been saving up to move away
(she was glad there was no other children)
tomato sauce decorated her uniform
the girls at school were kinda mean,
white girls with white skin and privilege
the boys were no different, a pack of hounds
smelling only fresh blood in her skirts
suddenly she was too tired to wash the stain
leaving it in the laundry room, her mother will
surely ask questions she won't like the answer to