Jill Michelle

BACK IN 1991
after Judith Fox

when my mouth was a deadbolt
I drove to the first safe place, a
church parking lot, let my teeth
chatter, legs shake, decided, no cops.

When my mouth was a deadbolt
I pinned my hair back up, rolled
down the plaid flannel sleeves to
hide his fingerprint Rorschach.

When my mouth was a deadbolt
I snuck past Mom watching Carson
on the couch, showered the evidence
off of me, jammed the key in the lock.

When my mouth was a deadbolt
I still would have had a choice
if twelve weeks later, his crime
swelled my belly, found its voice.