Silence blankets the city
as much as I have ever seen—ice
clouds the asphalt, school said
don’t try to make it today, so I’m
Home with my sister and mom is off to work—
but my street isn’t so quiet today when there is a
knock on the slammer.
tap, tap, tap
turns to boots and bangs and blows
and the wood is cracking and splitting; it just won’t give.
what’s your emergency?
i’m playing a game of catch up with the
past, and he’s here with a vengeance towards her
daughters. and she’s not even home!
now don’t knock on the door
just let me know when you get here,
so my limbs don’t give like an
and I can maintain some kind of sanity
and the very thing that keeps me alive
Briana Wilson is a Nashville-based student and writer currently attending Tennessee State University. With a major in English and a minor in French, her post-graduation plans consist of higher education and extensive traveling amidst teaching children and writing. Her writing focuses on the possibilities of interpretations in language and personal experience and aims to explore class, gender, and race.