FCYU131 cover image See all stories from issue #131, Winter 2018

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ISBN: 9781935552185
Frankie Macias, 21
Lomita, CA

Today I turn 7,
I don’t expect a family hug or a kiss,
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No birthday cakes or gifts,
Just waiting for the beatdown and my busted lip.
Preparing to tell my teachers I fell and slipped,
Clumsy me, two left feet,
I guess I must have tripped.
When he’s gone I tell my mom he hits me and it hurts,
Plus the teachers at school keep asking about the bruises under my shirt,
She says to tell them me and my brothers like to wrestle,
“Boys are tough”
“My mom says we shouldn’t play so rough.”
It’s 1:00 a.m.
And I know he’s been drinking again,
Because the smell of cheap cologne & whiskey fills the air.
And as I’m lying there,
My heart thumping against my chest,
I’m saying please don’t let him come,
God please don’t let him come in,
But then I hear the sudden sounds,
Of sluggish footsteps pound against the ground,
And I see his shadow on my wall,
Oh no, here he comes, he’s coming in again,
Oh well, I guess this is just how my day begins,
This is, this is just life.
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