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
I’d stay in my room like little girls were supposed
to do. Little girls shouldn’t see their parents fight,