Happy in her new digs,
plywood and metal scraps,
original resident dead.
A step up from cardboard,
if she could eradicate the smell.

Comic strips, the colored ones,
wallpaper of choice.
Condoms stored in knock-off bag,
Pick your flavor, pick your place.
But no, not here. Not in my space.

Golden locket round her neck
broken knotted chain.
Daddy’s picture kept within,
missing god knows where
always hangng near.

Mama’s image burned one day.
Albatross memories
seared in heart.
Flailing arms and slurred tongue,
bottle thrown. Crashed into her soul.


And so she did,
grabbed the locket and ran.
Happy sweet sixteen.
Birthday promise made that day
always kept, these many years.

Eyes tired, never shut.
She saw their faces, every john.
Every thrust she felt,
every punch and hunger pain.

But slurring, oblivious sot?
She would NEVER be her.


Photo credit: Linda Lacerna. Somehow, in this holiday season, my heart is drawn to those who have not – the Lorettas of this world.

3 thoughts on “Loretta

  1. Melinda Kucsera December 13, 2015 / 8:29 am

    It’s a tour de force with each stanza sketching, with razor wit, the unhappy life of Loretta.

    Liked by 1 person

    • lillian December 13, 2015 / 8:39 am

      Somehow these character sketches keep popping into my head…..maybe it’s the walks on city streets this time of year with bells ringing, decorations, people bustling. I need to shift to thoughts of candy canes and sleigh bells!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Melinda Kucsera December 13, 2015 / 8:42 am

        you still have time for that! It’s only 12/13. You have 12 days to undertake that holiday shift. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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