The Pressure Shook Her Jaw

     A Thunderstorm came marching in as she lay writing.

A lightning bolt struck hard a half a block away,

and the pressure shook her jaw and the memory she’d recall would not let her sleep.

 

Her Mother was ashamed she wasn’t born a beauty queen.

Her Father passed away at the end of second grade.

A patch of Vitiligo framed an eye in hues of clay.

High school thus was maimed by a new insult each day.

     In Florence South Carolina heavy metal was the game,

the outcast bards would play, she tried but could not find it in her.

heart was beating fast for every other boy she passed

but each one lacked the class to court the spotted cat.

     She hid until the day a traveler carried her away

to the Capitol to blockade the streets in the name of better things.

Along the way it fell apart she gave in; he broke her heart,

and in the prison she lost all hope for humanity.

 

Her mother cried to hear her daughter had gone to protest.

Claiming her Father was a’ rolling in his grave.

Amusia tried to turn away , but her Mother’s hand still struck

her in the face.

 

What no one knew was that she’d long been counting nickles.

For a decade she’d gone and squirled away each dime, and she

bought a van and packed up what she’d needed and

left with no goodbye.