SWEET
The day she went
out of our lives
I offered her a sweet.
'Thanks love, I'll eat it
later on the bus.'
She snaps it shut in her little red purse.
I still feel my hand letting go of her hand
see for the last time her never-again-seen face.
Only the little red purse returns
out of its mouth…Death laughs
in blood besprinkled glass
some small change…the never eaten sweet.
For years it lives behind the wind-up clock
in my mother's bedroom
scaring me each time I have to pass
and it sees me and laughs.
My little brother not even born then when...
jumps up & down playing alone
all by himself
in a world of his own.
He is both good guy & bad guy
falling down dead on the bed
as a quick spat out shot
ricochets & agggh...gits him!
Even by 7
killing yourself is a tiring business.
He stops. Rests.
...rummages around among
my mother's artifacts.
His little inquiring mind
snaps open the little red purse.
Death laughs(but he not knowing)
is immune to it.
He sees the white wrapped death sweet
almost glowing against the red.
He sees it...eats it.
The Past has been
eaten by the Present.
Unaware of what he has done
(Death defeated)
he flings himself on the bed once again
pretending he is dead
sunlight streams through the glass
holds him gently in its hand
this the living child
Death dead at last.
*
This is where all my writing starts from...at the same time that Death gave me a voice...it tore my tongue out. The poetry finally let me speak.
I keep coming back to this one moment and writing different poems from different angles and even a short story! Can't let it alone.