• Gerry Sasse

Don't Breathe

Don’t Breathe

As my father tossed my blanket

over me in my bottom bunk

in the middle of the night

discarded as an empty can on the highway

I felt like a hollering creek of

repressed rage

ready to implode.

Giggling “Daddy, Daddy”

earlier as he lifted my pajamas

contradicted my held breath

pretending I wasn’t there

until he left the room

to return to safety

in my fragile orb.

—Gerry Sasse


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