All I have are
these photographs
without you.

thrown on the bed
you stare at me
through the
laughing clown &

the moon crescent
above my head
where baby doll
smiles

she glimmers
reflecting the moon
it's peaceful home
in a midnight sky.

you spoke to me
that night & I,
woke soon after
a breaking dawn
with my head spinning
somersaults of
greater fright than
those I tumbled through
on tortured weekends

skipping into class
weighed & deemed
good enough
gymnastic skill
my weight in gold
ticked & signed.

your shadow
followed me
to school &,
I even drew you
when the art teacher
simply asked;
draw what you dreamt
last night

that same day
teacher hung you
above the hall room
&, every lunch time
you would glare
&, every inch of skin
formed goosebumps
for if I dared eat
you'd know, because
you were always right
there.

you took a few years off
fed on another girls
flesh, then another
I would see them
shrinking in size
slipping off to bathrooms
but then,
I was too naive
to know
but what I did know, was
they drew you in
similar ways, &
at home I would pray
that the monster
would be exorcized
on the page, as it had
for me.

I'm aged fourteen
standing in the garage
packed boxes in storage

maybe I found you
or maybe you led me
back, &
as I tore back tape
you smiled at me
flashback;
laughing clown
baby doll

I jumped back in fear
you didn't care
I forced you down
&, I sat on the box
to hide your face
but you were already
whistling
by the garage door
&, right there
was the scorn.

you'd haunted me
every day
since I was born

I was the child you tore
from her home
&
you were the phantom
the ghost
the unwanted
host.

© Sia Jane

Sweet subtle serendipity
Following the scattered lines
That make-up the maps,
And the roads, and the veins
In our softly melting
Hearts- slowly dripping
Like suede candle wax
Peeling from skin,
Smooth- with the scent
Of a million rose petals
Floating in the scattered lines
Which make-up the rivers
And the roads, on the maps
Of our world, peeling back
To spill the inner core
Out into the speckled cosmos-
Like freckles on your back,
Soaking in the spring light.
A lone daisy on a windowsill
Wrapped in a burlap bow,
Bowing to the sun.
Life- evading through its
Glossy white petals, glowing.
Glowing like the moon
That rises in the east.
And as we watch
From our scattered lines
From our rivers and our roads
From our map of the cosmos-
It stops in the middle of our sky,
And rests for a little while,
Wrapped in a burlap bow.