That night
Went by in
Slowest of
Slow motion
Time enough
For me to think
As night crowded in
Cold
Dark
Dank
Fist planted firmly
On my chin
Time stopped
My screams did not
There was no plan
Only thoughts of immediate escape
Gathered up my
Infant son
Into that cold, dark night
We would run
My mother greeted me
Her eyes beseeching me
Into the car I fell
She did not ask
I did not tell
Eyes red-rimmed
Face ashen gray
My eyes told a story
My voice could not say.
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