Small Square Window

I was afraid of her. I suspected the secrets she hid. She repeated “with this dollar, I thee wed”. She slept only until she was awakened By the sound of her own voice, and the crunch of snow under her father’s boot The echo traveled to her center Buried all softness Her dress caught on the corner of a table Buttons flew into the air Like feathers She stood, unprotected and screamed "stand up straight and don't let it own you". She breathed belief into it, and left it there to die The light poured through the small square window, a visage darkened time The mouth bigger than the space it occupied They have come for her and she will go. She is already gone.