The Cracker Box

[Hilda Whitter]

They break
Through the window
When I am not there
They raid my clothes
And violate
Until I am bare

There was a pattern
Of ringing cell phones
And blasting music
Coming from upstairs

In tears
I'd hurry to
Call the police
Just to be locked
Up for mental relief

A merry-go-round
I found myself
In despair

At home
I woke up
And Officer Butler
Was there
With my script
Reading loudly
For all to hear

Cops at the foot
Of my bed
One holding a gun
To the other's head

On his knees
Pointing toward me
With his index finger

I lay paralyzed
Forced spread eagle
They put me asleep
With the prick of a needle