It was Sunday when we met again.
Seventeen years had passed.
When last I saw her, she was a child, shy.
She told me she had two girls of her own.

Before two weeks had gone
by she sent a text and asked
if she could come by
when

I had time.
I told her I always
had time for her and rhyme.
She said I should not stare

at her black eye or ask where
and how she gets it every time.
Her youngest child’s sperm donor preys
on her at night. Not being sublime

she said he forces her.
I knew what that meant.
Anger flushed my face.
I waited for her reply.

She said that was why
she wanted to come by. 
She needed a happy space
to mend her heart and mind.

I went
outside and placed a key to
her safe house
in hopes it would make
the difference.