Between the Lips of the Waterfall
The clips are unfastened. The wig is removed. The iron-pressed shirt is undone along with the bra and the pants. All limbs buried become released as everything is pulled over. Under. Down.
She stands before the door. Feeling the tremor. Goes forward to the lock with fingertips trembling. Searching. Naked. Vulnerable in this corridor of wall, greyed like the lips of a waterfall.
Old Testaments
When I agreed to testify against that man, I did it because Isaiah wanted me to. Because I needed to. Because a little distance lulls you into a false sense of security. Because the silent empty well I’d been falling down for years finally allowed me to scream.