Disconnected. Afraid, but no enemy. Her heart lurched,
blood-filled pockets of desperation, unfulfilled.
Her aubergine anger washed over her like cheap paint, pushing
against an invisible canvas. Working for her rest.
Then soft, just out of reach. Teasing and entreating. White
coated soul with red tips, pushing her brain. Red-fingered
crust on chalk boards, searing.
Belly heart beat, leaden.
On clouds' lilting whisper, bringing, fulfilling, soothing. Rain
-- sun-soaked rain, washing and drying husky corners, wearing down
edges to child-protect. Peace-like lies.
Then the laughing. Surround sound, walls full of mocking-choke
cafluffle, full of grotesque faces, elongation, skewed. Devil-soaked
realities come from within and without.
Her own voice screaming for attention, help.
Darkness feathering softly all around her, keeping her on its
Coal's lump from deep inside drilled her instincts, firing one
question after another, keeping her intrigued. Searching. Then
For more. "Bring it on again," her agony cried,
again on its edge. No way out, but out itself. And more.
Wanting. Repulsing. Yearning. Despising.
Hoping. Hating. Blind. And full seeing.
Then the morning.
Family just shook their heads. Ain't no matter, nothing
to be done now, they said, heads held high, a-thankin their God
it weren't them. Neighborhood saved. Self-flagellance
praised. Martyred for the cause of one stray lamb. They
bore it as with duty, in the name of love. Birthdays, Christmas
and every Sunday. Then just every Christmas.
Ten years gone. No more Christmases even. Alone again.
With tormenting friend who pleases and detests.
Will the circle be unbroken? Not in this house of white