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Linda Belans 2018


This time

I wasn’t cornered

this time

he was calling to me

from the second-floor

bedroom window

a lone balding man

with grinning face




framed by stiff curtains

backed by thick dark void


Memory divides


from              Now


There is no evidence

no corroborating story

no witness

just him

and me


But this time

I wasn’t trapped


in a house

with him

like all the other times

this time

I am standing

at street level

under the window

the bedroom

he shares with his wife

my aunt

in a house

they live in with

their two children


I don’t know where they were

on this particular late summer afternoon

but I knew where he was


I always knew where he was.


This time

I am standing

on a high mound of dirt


from the construction site

in the newly forming neighborhood 

this time

I said




And I climbed down off the rise

and walked away


or was it ran?


That was

the last time


first time

everything changed.

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