Down by the river
in cramped quarters,
telephones ring nonstop.
Young people, women
mostly, quickly pick up.
Voices cry out: Help me!
I'm too high. Someone
followed me. And . . .
then he raped me.
This new recruit,
sensitive as bruised skin,
calmly tries on comfort:
Stay cool. Talk to me.
Breathe, just breathe, she says.
All night long, she cares and
consoles, her heart
racing, as perspiration
blurs worn referral cards.
During a brief respite,
she glances out a dark window,
watches the roiling water,
imagines her body
floating downstream.
At shift's end she exits, running . . . running.
Dianne Moritz is a children's book author who lives in North Sea.