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Something From the Woman I Left Behind 1978, the seventh anniversary of our marriage we spent the night in a van, on top of Brasstown Bald mountain. He slipped a pistol under the mattress and said we would be safe from robbers. Vandals wear many disguises and the violated learns, eventually, to recognize the mask. 2 a.m., wrapped in my own arms, the scent of his whiskey on my neck, bruises on bare trembling legs; I stood naked before the moon. In cold October air, shiver, had to find my way back to me. Shirley Alexander © 2008Return to Backward Glances
