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He made dirt of her
Nothing like God’s craft
Battered her
Then bed her sore, bruised and swollen
It didn’t matter
The Priest had said, for better or worse
Sarah was missing
She had up and run
As he recreated Ma, with jabs and kicks
She tried a halt to bring
And before Ma passed
He turned on her Sarah and struck her flat
With hoarded pennies
And trinkets
She built a tunnel
And purchased liberty
But then she was arrested
Turned out it wasn’t a ticket to Asia
Before the judge came she
An ex-convict to be
And when the Prosecutrix asked
Her answer was “the trigger moved”
