A Daughter Deflowered Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

The Scene: a dark basement in the shadow of night
where dirty, perverted things are done out of sight.
His stealthy, secret visits are furtively made
by the torch of his eyes and the tip of his spade.

Her eyes are like hollows in the back of a cave,
dug deep in her skull like bare bones in a grave.
No matter her protests nor the tears that she cries,
he tells her that she will like it, knowing he lies.

She wonders why her mother and no one else cares,
why no one else hears the creaking beneath the stairs.
His forcible entry hides behind the locked door,
the dark stain of her torment drips to the dirt floor.

Her young mind is ringing like a slave market bell,
and she chokes on his love that reminds her of hell.
With deep strokes of plunder, he buries with his pike,
weighs her body down beneath his hard hammer's strike.

The long length of his dagger is plunged to the hilt
and carves his initials in the flesh of her guilt.
Her sanity hangs upon a weakening thread.
'I told you you would like it, ' was all that he said.