The Disappearance Of Joan Poem by Raj Dronamraju

The parking world at night is lit and is crowded with moths
The security guard's thermos opened sends plumes of steam into the darkness
The stomachache has gone home for the day
The red hatchback has accumulated parking tickets and dust
Someone has drawn with their finger "wash me" on the back window

I knew her by where she worked and how she talked to people
But as is the case for the woman of purgatory, that is not really knowing someone at all

The broken split spirit still stretched on the inquisition rack
Requests for "cut me some slack" fall on oblivious partners
Used to certain things happening at certain times
And certain haircuts and certain dresses

And not at all interested in crying jags in the hatchback
New hobbies and attempts at self-improvement

Maybe she took a plane or a train
Or maybe she ran out of tolerance with keep it real
Decided she was too small to move philosophy and the role she was encased in
Or maybe she's still there, her new self sweats tightly despite the cold night air











So he wouldn't know any better even if the men who could change his life were standing in front of him
He'd still respond with some level of retardation
A carry over from what? An injury while he was in the womb, a blow to the head at a young age, or the bag over the head of the captive?
He was born into captivity so he won't remember anything else