A zephyr billowed
faded gray curtains
as dust motes danced
with the sunlight
in the haphazard room.
The unmade bed
of little concern
as her thigh twitched uncontrollably
her young heart pressing against the wall of her chest
sure she might die with anticipation
when wafts of confederate jasmine
came streaming through the old jalousie windows
and stole her attention,
distracted her from her spastic loins
gave her something to focus on.
It reminded her of home
the place she both loved and loathed,
the place that had led her here.