• left_chevron_three 9w

    Beating the Deadbeat Dead

    Ghosts in Hazel’s eyes,
    dead before they came.
    You were the prick,
    in her icy veins-
    "Father" was buried
    (under his own name)
    Bones to pick
    before his grave.
    Remember the girl?
    The miracle hatchling?
    The empty in your nest,
    marbled with adversity?
    Under ash gray skies...
    (herself more than you that is)
    How are you still anything?
    (Must she explain her innocent trembling?!?)
    Whose tears are these now
    in this soul soaking rain?
    (Damn the upstairs draft
    atop her still solid frame)
    Her will remains trapped,
    in a cloudy glass jar,
    (Her mind is that of a bouncing bee)
    though knelt now inside
    your grassless square
    she tries to put you away,
    as she quietly seethes...
    you're no longer allowed to breathe
    through the holes in me.
    You're no longer allowed to BE!