Old Spice cologne triggers sickening memories,
Fathers are not supposed to touch daughters in sacred places.
Footsteps in silent hallways make her heart beat faster,
Holding her breathe until the doorknob turns.
No lock on her bedroom door, she dresses in the closet,
Showers are taken only when mother is home.
Watching late night television is her ritual,
Father won't do nasty things to her in the living room.
Marrying her first boyfriend at age eighteen,
She leaves behind her disloyal patriarch chameleon.
Becoming the mother of two daughters,
She never leaves them alone with grandpa.
The ageing flab on her spouse's upper arms activates an image of dad,
She shudders and remembers as his eyes glazed over during ejaculation.
Finding a counseling place she vomits her childhood secret,
She cannot fathom the betrayal of her father, the church pastor.
Melissa writes about the God and human connection and condition.
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by Melissa Martin
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