Dad
Dark hair, disheveled and peppered with gray,
his work uniform coated in drywall dust,
sipping coffee at the kitchen table
reading the newspaper from last week.
He'd been waiting for me.
How was the sleepover? His eyes lit up.
Great, I said, trying to hide the ripped underwear
balled up in my hand, the raging hangover,
the urge to vomit on the front porch,
the pain between my legs. It was great.
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Fault
PoetryLiz is a regular teenager with a best friend who can get her into the best parties which is great until Liz gets roofied and raped one night at a party and when she starts to speak up, things get messy. When no one, including her best friend, believ...
