Hiding Places

by Charlotte Hamrick

From the beginning even the smallest dreams

were a half-turned terror that might never end.

Secret hiding places shelter

the fallout of war: the sound

of breath,

the throbbing cheek,

the flowered dress drenched with rain.

A frozen heart is without failures,

without fight, a silence

of not asking questions.

In my memory

you recognize me by touch,

inch by inch.

A rusty fan blows the stench

of sweat from my sheets.