Not A Poem
It's flush left,
The first letter
In each line is
Capitalized, and
I use a simile, but
It's more police report
Than poem.
At just past 7 a.m.,
On a Saturday,
My father slapped my face.
He slapped my face
Because I didn't eat
The scrambled eggs he made.
It was easy for him to slap my face
Because it reminded him
Of the people he hated.
He hated my face.
He slapped my face so hard that
My heart stopped beating,
I stopped breathing, my eyes
Bounced around in their sockets, and
My cheek was pushed hard
And deep into the empty space
Where a tooth was.
[...] Read more
poem by Francis Santaquilani
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
