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LATITUDES, 2ND EDITION
​Poetry

Escape
by Cheryl Ann Farrell

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The ol' man snored 
Through his daily afternoon nap
After filling his gut with little regard

The steam iron hissed at me
And I imagined a salon facial
The starch scorched; the ironing board creaked
The smell of fear rose and fell in tandem
With his heaving chest.

I wish my mother would take care of him.

He's the only man I know.
I wonder if they all smell that way
The grocer, the butcher, the candlestick maker
They all seem to ooze
Whether it’s too much smile or just too much sweat.

The iron hisses again and spits scalding water
Across my hand
For a moment he looks vulnerable
For a moment I see a way out.


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  • Home
    • Grantwriting
  • Our Work
  • Donate
  • Guild News
    • Member News Top
    • Member News Top Two
  • Our Authors
  • Events Calendar
    • New Event Suggestion
  • Guild Business
  • Membership
    • Pay Annual Dues
    • Membership-Student
    • Pay Annual Student Dues
  • Gallery
  • Writing Resources
    • Connections
    • How To …
    • Local Help
  • Contact
  • Literary Review
    • Submission Guidelines
    • LitReview First Edition
    • LitReview Second Edition
    • LitReview Third Edition