Haiti 1995

Her skin was darker than the dirt road,

But not as dark as the heavy night.

She laid still and lifeless,

But her eyes were open

And her mouth was agape.

Her neck was nearly ninety degrees,

Snapped by a heavy wire.

Her arms and legs were everywhere

Like a puppet without the strings.

A policeman with latex gloves

Pinched her skin with a pair of pliers.

A crowd of ivory eyes stood around her,

Silent or barely muttering.

The truck that let her hang was gone.

She was a nonentity now,

She was somebody’s daughter at least.

She is no one,

But then she was everyone;

Dead, yet quietly sinking back into the darkness.


©2017 Valerie Hathaway


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s