Slap

your booming voice
gives me the power
to close my mouth
and look away.

slap.

your hand connects
with my cheek
and leaves a sting
i’ve felt before.

you finish your lecture
your face red; eyes beady
and i scurry away –
shaken.

turning off the faucet,
i wipe my face,
and pray you won’t notice
my eyes are red.

 

(c)Marie Meyers, 2013

This poem has been printed in Teen Ink’s monthly magazine.

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