Poetry from Diana Donovan
The houses where you were afraid to fall asleep
they weren’t like the others on the tree-lined street
by the pond the neighborhood kids cleared after the snow
everyone lacing up their skates as the sun climbed high on the ridge
setting up the plywood hockey goals—and later
one of the moms would bring steaming Thermoses of hot cocoa
no—the houses where you crept into bed scanning for danger
they were different—you might wake to raised voices
sound of glass breaking and was that the crack of bone?
someone having trouble getting words out
maybe she’s on the ground, maybe there’s blood in her throat
and lying very still—frozen—instead of getting up to see
thinking about the day when you’d be allowed to ride in a car with a boy
and you could sip hot cocoa to warm your numb hands and face
maybe some day you’d live in a quiet house
you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Diana Donovan is a freelance writer and marketing consultant based in Northern California. A graduate of Brown University, Diana was recently featured in Quiet Lightning, a literary mixtape/reading series in San Francisco.
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