Intermittent Clouds

She waits by the clothesline in the back yard--
Hanging her whites on the line:
Slips
Underwear
Corsets
Bustiers
Socks
T-shirts
Sheets
No one knows what it's like
To be in her shoes
Not even her mother
To be filled with fear
Each and every day
Seconds,
Minutes,
Hours pass away
Slowly
Stella doesn't speak
She has no voice
Only the temporary cries
Under the sheets
When she's asleep
To be guilty
To be afraid
To be ashamed
Trepidation
All consuming
Tired of telling lies
Beautiful lies
The ecstasy of such lies
Behind the intermittent clouds
That are coming more often now
There is sun
Oh beautiful sun
She sees not the sun
But the clouds
Overcast
Dark
Black
Penetrating--
As she looks into her father's eyes.