carry her

this is the little girl in the pink adidas jacket
with beer bottle caps collecting dust under her bed
with a lego box full of pieces that didn’t fit
and a bike with a bent seat
riding up and down the gardens and sticking her
naked legs into the fountain on hot days
and i have carried her, piggy back for eight years
dragging hockey books and dirty china behind us
an empty apartment full of ghosts and smoke
with the viking ship and bobbleheads and bagpipes
she’s still got the seatbelt on, a tourniquet, her hands
gripping the cup holder and looking at other cars
thinking please don’t hit me please don’t hit me
hit me hit me hit me hit me hit me hit me hit me
this girl did not have a childhood, so she stays in the
empty places, the car that no longer exists
the apartment that belongs to someone else
and wonders if the stains are still there
or the scuffs from the legs of the pull out couch
wonders what life she could have lived if daddy didn’t drink
and mommy didn’t cry so much
this is the girl who became a tombstone for my weekends
who i visit everyday, bringing cards and colouring books
saying it’s okay baby, i’m safe, you’re safe now
i’m gonna get you out of here while i deal her a hand
games of war and go fish played across the middle seat
she likes to yell at me, tells me to put my seatbelt on
crying when the car swerves, phantom drivers pulling
her this way and that, my smiles softening the turns  
you’re safe baby, i promise
she wants to know if daddy still smokes and yeah, he does
but so do you, sometimes, and it hurts to breathe
and you wonder when you can unbuckle her and scoop her up
carry her away from the wreckage and thumb the tears
bring her home and tuck the lion king blanket around her
braid her dark hair and hug her to you
saying i love you, baby, i love you, you can rest now
you hope that the day you can sleep next to her peacefully
comes soon, the stereo playing dusty tapes
you’re safe now, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay