I remember this man

By Cheryl Marie Wade

I remember this man who threw an apple core and screamed You're her daddy how could you hurt that little girl;

I didn't tell-- I didn't tell, Perhaps the just saw through to the twisted root.

Was it my father's hands a slip the way he licked his lips; Or was it my eyes their dark their blank.

Now I wonder: How many others caught the scent swallowed their breath let the little girl go it alone rather than throw the apple core?