Thursday, October 25, 2012


(I keep toying with Lilly's story -- the girl abducted one night out in San Francisco.  One day it will coalesce into a novel.  For now, I play...)


He wants (me here forever).
He says (speak when spoken to).
He goes (to work or to play, all day, all day).

I wish (for windows, a door, a chance).
I claw (at the plaster under the bed, where he won’t see).
I suck (on my arm until it bleeds).

Prison is too tight
For a fifteen year old girl.
All I did, all I did,
All I did
Was go out,
Was have fun,
Get drunk,

All I got, all I got,
All I got was this,
This room,
These walls,
            And him.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Corinne (Secrets I Don't Dare Tell, excerpt)

Meanwhile, I reach over to the coffee table with one hand to get my phone.  I start texting Marissa what happened, when suddenly my mother smacks my phone out of my hand!
“What the fuck!” I say -- big, big oops.
Right away, I amend that to, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I thought we were done.”
“We’re not done,” my mother says, leaning forward and getting all in my face.
“I was just telling Marissa—“
“I never should have gotten you that goddamned phone.  I thought you were special, Corinne, but you’re just like every other kid your age—“
“That’s right, I am!” I say, even though it really hurts to hear my mother say that to me.  “So I don’t even know why you’re punishing me for last night when everyone – everyone – is having sex by the time they’re like fourteen, and I’m sixteen, and all I was doing was—“
My mother pushes off her knees and stands up.  She starts walking away!
Listen to me!” I yell.
“I did listen!  I always listen to you, Corinne!”
“You’re not listening right now!”
 “Ladies, please.  We’re getting off topic.  Ashley, sit down, please.”
“There’s more?” I say, too snotty, I know, I know.  I’m an idiot.
“I’m sorry.  I’ll be good, Daddy, I promise,” I say, leaning closer to him.
“Yes, you will,” my mother says.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I say.
“You’d better not talk to me with that tone.”
“I’m not.”
“And just to make sure you are ‘good’, Tim will be staying here with you this weekend,” my mother says.
I sit upright, and the stone, which has grown to a baseball-sized rock, rolls around my stomach.  I feel like I’m going to be sick.