Ashley broke the mirror.
and like a new bird
she used her 5th grade legs to punch me out of the cocoon of blankets--
out of the top bunk bed and onto the floor.
And it was my head that shattered its reflective bits
leaving my un-brushed waist-length hair dropping beads
as I carved a path
along the cat-pissed stained carpet
toward the door--
feeling the shards cut my ribs.
She landed by my side--
grabbed my ankles and dragged me back toward the ring. And I
kicked my legs like they were hidden brass knuckles,
forcing her grip to loosen.
I grew sightless as I clawed the air-- searching for her face. Yet she
twined a fist full of my hair into her hands
and yanked like she was holding a belt above her head.
I tapped out of fear of going bald. But as she turned in victory
I charged the back of her knees.
She fell forward
chipping a tooth against the solid wood of the bunk bed. Then
a jiggle of keys turning the knob of the front door.
And it was my fathers grip on the remote that left me bleeding
but it was my sisters silence that kept me scarred.
-sonja lynn mata
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