THE LITTLE GIRL MY MOTHER WAS

By NANCY PATRICK

Norma Jean
Crossed the railroad tracks
Lookin’ for her daddy—
Found him in the bar;
“Come home, Daddy,” she said again.

Car in the lane
Who’s that lady in the car?
Daddy yells at Momma.
Momma cries again.

Playin’ in the tree.
Daddy’d said “don’t.”
Fell out and cracked her arm.
Daddy said, “damn” again.

Daddy’s real sick,
Blood on the floor,
Dead this time.
Norma Jean cried again.

normagate

Norma Jean

Read accompanying story by Nancy Patrick

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