-
- A Tall Man
- by
Christina Fletcher
-
- She couldn't
tell us much: the police, swift,
ruthless,
- tearing up her
thesis, her laissez-passer lost,
- numbness in
her hands; and that suddenly
- she thought
she was alone
-
- until a hard
hand slid across her hair. She
said
- he was a tall man.
Tall, with a slight stoop.
- As if to say,
"I am no taller
- than the next
man..."
-
- In the morning
a sergeant came to our cell.
- She asked him,
"Where are you taking
me?"
- He replied,
"You're going to the
court".
- She wept,
"Thanks to God: I'm going to
the court."
-
- After he took her, I
spoke to the old woman
- who has the rusty
nail. She whispered,
- "My child,
no-one goes to court
- at this time in the
morning."
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