The Hiding Place

This poem was written in Holland
beyond a door to a bookcase,
in a secret shared space
called the Annex.

Adjacent to an office
where people work and shuffle,
a young girl awaits her doom,
but not today.

She is consumed with an erotic afterglow
the result of a delicious friction
her parents call 'necking'.
they will correct them, again

Today she glances at a wall of movie stars
not dreaming of Hollywood contracts
but of a smiling future and being outside

She has found a friend, 'Kitty'
to confide her pulse's quickening
and florid cheeks
where contented sighs escape to the ceiling
like moths in an attic

Today she will write with a new pen,
excited with multitudes of words,
until the dentist yells and spittle forms,
his gaping mouth all sound and teeth
tiny exasperated agonies
they later call 'compromise'

Today she starves to be a woman again.
Hungry shadows surround her eyes,
dark smudges of death.
She hears fleeting footsteps
and listens as her cheekbones hollow,
sharp like the stench of war
her cycle has stopped

The air is flush with spring
breaths flicker with surprise
lives vanish and pages scatter
dust settles in the sunlight
scrawled texts twined together
held safe for her return
it is still there, today