February 2024 Flash Lit 4 (last go) - Escape

Escape

It was stupid,

the argument—

aren’t they all?—

about ironing.

But

also about power

and iron control

and the urgent pressing

growth toward something,

somewhere

bigger than

my childhood home.

I fled, tearful, fifteen,

from my mother.

Out under the sky

I could breathe and rage.

Even there, I couldn’t

escape for long.

I went back

and smoothed the wrinkles

from as much as possible.