he,
has been on my mind lately.
Just a google search away,
there's his face,
wait,
that was 2012?
I was 15,
could have sworn I was a child,
absorbing the crime
with less acknowledgment
than an ant on my arm.
How could I have been 15?
I was so small,
it was so familiar,
and now it seems not so far away.
I suppose I like to think,
the trauma stopped when I grew up,
that all those bad things happened
when I was very small,
but they didn't stop.
They still haven't.
And at the end of the day,
I'm still a little girl,  
clutching my stuffed animals,
trying to make sense
of the world around me.

I saw a thread
and it told me not to pull
I couldn't help but see where it could go
so I reached and I tugged-
then pursed my lips and shrugged
pretending not to care
about the tapestry that came a crashing
that came unravelling
kicking up dust
as my dreams began dismantling-
it would happen again
and again
I can't resist a thread
even though I can see, at the end, only dread.

I want to feel
your traveled hands
lift my head
as you bend to kiss
and devour
my adulation

and she is undone
at the edge of shadow and sun
her will given to the wind
and her rich furs errant and skinned.

the sunset reminds me of
the way you
crane your neck
and take a deep breath
you say
the words are whispering
and how you've missed them for such a long time

I'll stay until they come....

I'll stay until they come...

there's a great suffering abound
and lots of wilted potted daisies around
a child in a grown-ups dress I've found...
she's so close.

and the room temperature
makes the rag heavy
and her eyes
drip down pushing against the gravity
she is so sure it can't be true
it's been a dark and bruising venture

there's a great suffering abound
I'm kicking through dried petals scattered all around
a child grasping the fundamentals of trauma I've found...
she's so close.

burden pretty like a feathered Jay
his beak a needle
that sews her presence shut
crystal ball binoculars
waving to the fog coming for the day

there's a great suffering abound
I'm bathing in stiff stems cutting all around
a child bewildered by debt i've found...
she's so close.

an Umbellularia
rose up in Atlanta
priestly and tall
shading my squall
Breathless and begging
I swear
if I got
just one night of your love
I wouldn't break your stay
I wouldn't let her sway
I'd **** them all-  I'd let God die
if they made you cry
Umbellularia I swear
just give me one
and I'd walk back into the sun