Little Girl

Some nights I’d stick my face to the wall trying

to ease in on conversations between them

because no one ever told me not to listen to the

voices whispering through the thin, white wall.

I’d knock twice whenever it got too loud. Two

hard knocks because the harder they were,

the softer they spoke.

It got so bad one time that my brothers had to

strap my father down. His fist was the bull and

my mother had been running for years now

it seemed.

I’d stay in my room like little girls were supposed

to do. Little girls shouldn’t see their parents fight,