the morning after my high school graduation
a moving van pulls up out front
of our New Jersey house
United! it proclaims
& while movers maneuver
the contents of our house down the walk
up the ramp into the dark tunnel
stacked with blankets
strung with belts
& while my mother supervises
the know-it-all yes’m no’m blue-jumpsuited crew
I assemble a collection
of what I might need for the rest of my life
I’m seventeen
& I’m not moving to DC though she thinks I am
no, today is I win (& lose), game over
get out, get out for good
drive away in my two-door pale-blue Pontiac
dressed in black
& strung with pearls, it takes her
six weeks to find me cleaning a toilet in a stranger’s house
no, I won’t come with you, won’t pretend
you have any hold over me, won’t endure
one more day of your husband’s (my father’s)
drug- & drink-addled rage
she drives off
I pass another night deep in the park, locked in my car
