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MISTAKEN HOSPITALITY (VIOLATION OF INNOCENCE)

by kerry-ann-herrmann

Lead through the hospital house, where residual ashes of Zeus lay in heaps at broken corners, coating derelict floorboards. GO! The purple ball of light is waiting. Enter the hall of purity, filled with macaroon sorrow and empty thoughts. Athena stands on the right, her head upon a serving dish. Listen closely ... A distant phone in the darkened cove is ringing. DON'T ANSWER IT! Beware a nurse on the left. Recognition of her temporal existence permeates through mucous membranes. Notice the stillness of air. Breathe it in, it does not flow. Follow through a doorway to the kitchen. Silver pans (or chimes?) (or bells?) hang above a perfect sink while droplets of blood incessantly drip, drip, drip, falling from a crying wrist, gently striking the sink bottom. Plead to not be forced into the room of mistaken hospitality, where beds of white cotton invite with chanted whispers the compliant to lay exposed. View the ceiling from this submissive position. It yields confusing colors of light: - Red wine - Blue water swirling together and forming indistinct patterns. Fearfully watch as a waxing flying caterpillar emerges from the purple swirling porthole and craving intense gratification. It will consume the laying prey through frantic silent screams. Feel the edges of a harsh cocoon woven around the bed. It traps with silky wings and trembling agitation. Do not scream Do not cry Do not try to fight. Allow icy numbness to spread and entertain immortal abandonment, for who would understand? - Kerry Ann Herrmann
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Written by
kerry-ann-herrmann
For You?
Written by
kerry-ann-herrmann
Published
Apr 23, 2016
Time
4m
Notes

I don't know if it's obvious (it is to me). I hoped to capture the psychological effects of sexual abuse... The systematic weakening between leading, entering, following, and finally being forced. I hoped that the defeat of both Zeus and Athena (the strongest god and goddess) would immediately foreshadow the stripping away of one's strength. A flying caterpillar is of course a butterfly, and a symbol of change, though not a positive change in this case. Of course, their is the obvious phallic symbolism in a waxing or growing caterpillar. Finally, there is red wine and blue water, both of which are symbols of sacrament and baptism, perhaps the only thing that can ultimately save the victim. Was my poem way too obscure to catch all that?

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