At Crescent Park
by Despy Boutris
His hot hand hitting my face鈥攖hat鈥檚 what I remember聽
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 most about that night. My father had come in
to check on me and found the bundle of clothes
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 under the covers where my body should have been.
So, fine. I鈥檇 snuck out. I鈥檇 seen a girl.
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 Do other fathers show how much they care
with such force? Just an hour after the one I wanted
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 traced my thigh with a feather-light touch,
he yanked my hair so hard I fell. His voice a whisper.
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 Get your ass into bed. I lay down,
cheek stinging. Shut my eyes, pictured the girl鈥檚 face,
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 her sideways smile. Her quiet I want to kiss you
everywhere. The way she looked at me, crooked-lipped,
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 when I joked In Kansas City? In Griswold, Iowa?
At the Dairy Queen? She laughed. In a Porta Potty?
聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 Yes, she vowed. Everywhere. And everything was perfect
and nothing hurt.
writing has been published or is forthcoming in Copper Nickel, Colorado Review, The Adroit Journal, Prairie Schooner, Palette Poetry, Third Coast, Raleigh Review, and more. Currently, she teaches at the University of Houston and serves as assistant poetry editor for Gulf Coast.