by Meliora Dockery
She doesn’t speak.
She never speaks.
At ten years old,
From her high perch of pain
She observes the world.
Nothing is permanent.
The dog who loved her ran away.
Her parents deserted,
Killed in a car accident when she was four,
Mother out-right, father lingering,
Finally choosing his wife over her
And leaving for the nether world.
She ping-ponged among half brother, aunt, half sister.
She lived in the dorm at Louisiana State University.
Hurricane Gustav destroyed even this temporary permanence.
She loves to draw.
She loves to draw people.
She only draws people who are crying.