Not once, but
Many times
I bore my dad’s
Imprints
As he laid
His beefy
Palms on me
He would
Wash them
Away in
Moments of
Remorse.
They have
Fossilized
In my memory
Caked with
Tears and hate.
I remember
The bolted door
Papa’s waltz
Branding me
With lashes,
the leather-whip
Drawn from
His waist
For my date with
Five boys at one go.
He loved me
too much
To let me