search warrant
she sat on the curb at twilight
stale tears etched on her cheeks
elbows on knees
fingers curled in
her knuckles keeping her face
from sinking even further
across the street police lights strobe
in a constant circle and remittent flash
the k9 sedan idling
its radio haltingly chatty
broadcasting to nobody
but the girl
and her neighbors
operating as passersby
twenty-four concrete steps
and a steel railing
scale the hill leading up to her house
where inside her daddy
is handcuffed and pinned to the wall
soon to be escorted
down the twenty-four steps
and past the curb
momentarily out
of her wretched life
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october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
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