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ATL
Poems
Sep 2019
last night
I wanted to learn
so last night my fourth grade teacher
tore my eyelids off
and sat me near a television screen
that showed my mother dying
over and over
and over again.
I left as a cavity
of a boy,
collapsing at the sound of passing cars
as I searched for a payphone where
I could speak to the static about Gabriel.
(where is he?)
When I look at my brother and father
I beg for my eyes to be caressed until theyβre scarred
with every daytime matinee
and curtsy on the train platform
that built me into this mosaic
of a βmanβ.
deeply personal. would appreciate kind words and condolences. my mother is alive but a part of me has died.
Written by
ATL
23/M/MA
(23/M/MA)
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