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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