She had
blood,
smeared in lips,
across ivory
skin (so soft)-freckle
faced
kid,
even charming at ten.
Adorable, sweet
little girl;
(such a cruel,
wicked
world)-couldn’t wait
to devour precious
curls. Tiny
child,
little girl;
walking home from
the pool,
with her
favourite, kangaroo jacket
(that she tied round her waist)-it
fell off of her waist, on
that
terrible day.
And importance-
impressed,
upon childish, young thoughts-
unfamiliar,
the sickening,
feeling (of)
DOOM:
(spinning round) in her
ten year old tummy. (Such)
big,
beautiful
eyes,
(nearly ravaged)
by tears,
brimming over…
-when-
IMAGINATION
severed
the urgency.
Ugly and
crucial,
an image,
a worry;
Adult,
as her moms’,
(always)
money
thoughts…
‘SOMEONE; it could be ANYONE,
pulling her hood, on a head,
(that was nothing like hers)’…
And this, was a lot (of-
enough) of-
good reason
(to stay out a little bit longer),
and LOOK.
So, searching franticly,
madly and thoroughly;
(selectively blind) to the
dark commonalities,
(should-be-priorities)…
Binding her
hope, to the
sunlight,a thread
(that was more like
a rope),
pulled them down,
to the earth-
to their ends.
So conviction,
and wakefulness,
both
rode daylight
to expiration.
The blackness of night
consumed her.
Waking!
and Darkness!
(and) lost-still exhausted,
defeated. Shivering
from the night cold
(made her long for
the jacket)
she failed
to rescue, so long ago
so deep,
within the ravine.
(Looking up),
there were so many trees,
she felt nauseous .
Her cheeks,
beyond ruddy,
were dirty and stained with
a full afternoon of
her tears.
And she prayed ,
TO THE DEAF EARS OF GOD,
(made her feel, even
younger); in
nervousness, anxious-
she trembled.
Then waited,
and waited…
and NOTHING,
but thistles
and prickles and
mud.
(And foreboding),
that newly acquainted feeling (of)
DOOM,
recurred,
stronger
with each
falling
tear.
When she opened,
the door, (to her home),
it was, nearly
eleven-
her tired eyes,
red (by
the rubbing)-
preparing:
NO TEARS!
(Some lessons (need)
learn
only once).
She inhaled
the familiar aromas (of)-whiskey-
or beer,
cigarette smoke,
a hint of her mothers
perfume.
Oil and grease, tar
were foremost, the
dinner
she missed (gravy, roast beef,
potatoes).
Tonight,
this brought no consolation.
Wanting bed,
in her room;
(was a place)
she could cry,
with her face in the pillow,
unheard-
she had suffered
(the cost) of
a mild
disobedience. Still,
the smallest of favours:
(an ill fated
wish);near the
end of
an unhappy,
day.
(The worst),
she could never imagine.
A nightmare,
(she knew),
she would never forget.
Her moms’ sombre warnings,
(neglected), echoing,
pounding
her skull, inside out.
(It was) “how many times,
blah-blah-blah
not to walk in the creek”…
But, her mind
was on closer things,
dirty atrocities. How
could remembering,
hurt,
just as much (as)…
The adult who found her,
(a bad man who scared her)-
he touched her,
he raped her…(all)
tantamount to,
(nothing more) than a
pitiless
secret-
forever-
she never could
share. (For)
the bruise on her cheek,
wasn’t showing, her lip-
not yet swelling; the blood
EVERYWHERE-
had been wiped away, clean,
yet, still
telling,
dishevelled, torn,
rips
in her filthy, soaked clothing.
(Amassed into)
scared,
silent,
sobs,
panic,
muddy, wet
mess- of a damp
river valley;(she
wore on her clothes,
and her face).
All unnoticed…
(How could they not notice?)
This usual mindlessness,
hurt LESS each day.(And)
she focused, her
(so insignificant) presence
on the handle:
the door-(to)
her bedroom, while
(barely)
restraining,
the mad swell of teardrops…
For forty six minutes,
she waited (until), “just
one more” drink,
finally,
emptied the bottle.
Relief! (as she jumped
to her feet)
was short lived.
Cast over by
cruelty,
drunken-stupidity.
(The stench of bad judgement,
erupted-
predictably).
Daddys’ rough hands
spanked her harder than ever before.
Such an action,
unfair
and confusing
was typical-
mostly indelible.
(You know, unforgettable).
BUT NOT TONIGHT.
It took about
thirty five minutes,
to leap
over
puberty…
(Ten more)-
defining fresh injury. (That guy
was vicious): he
made sure the scars,
he inflicted-
were made for infinity.
BUT,
(like most ills),
life
disguises small victories,
unrecognizable,
fortune
comes cloaked, by
invisibility. A
child, still unwise in
her years, yet
distrustful,
(incredulous);
jaded (by)
misplaced maturity.
Gifts, (much like
people), to her,
were suspicious (now);
-new(ly)
deceived, misled, spoiled,
overpowered, degraded…
and hurt-
(not-heard). Not-
clean,
not-
daddys-sweet-girl,
anymore. And the wake
of calamity,
brought out a riot of
unwelcome, (all
grown up),
robust and
pushy-
emotions,
(she’s known all
her life),
despair, loathing, disgust,
(and the regulars).
Then, there was
FEAR-
quite alone in
it’s wickedness,
horrible, further- while
boasting it’s
confidence.
A tower beside
her Dad’s
everyday
nastiness.(His
words, always
hurtful)-
biting and
stinging, (were
now), all (like)
bunnies and rainbows;
pale,
subdued, and then
vanishing.
Truly, her usual
penance,
the “threatening
consequence”,
(undeserved discipline),
all the rest, had
already lost (its)
effectiveness-
NOW,
TONIGHT and
FOREVER.
(A gift like no other).
Many years later,
reflecting
(at the age, thirty-six);
she wondered-
‘would she ever
be-old enough;
(maybe just drunk
enough),
to be
an adult,
herself?’…
She thought, “probably
not”. But
she didn’t
wait
to find out.
She didn’t
wait
for anything,
anymore.
FIN
Tails 