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children’s hospital

I can’t remember what room I was in

15 years old

involuntary 24 hour hold

in the elmwood village

 

now I look over my yard

past the liquor store

to the the abandoned glass faces

of your darkened rooms

 

wonder what I would tell her

wonder what she would see, looking out

 

I don’t remember the view

don’t remember the way these white lines

must’ve looked fresh

red, raw, and new

 

but I imagine

her looking out at me

 

while I smoke a cigarette

while onyx tosses a stick

while walking hodge in twilight hours

while I write these words

 

what is it I would tell her

what could ten years offer her

to console

to comfort

 

all I see are black abandoned faces

in groups of three

empty rooms

 

ghosts of girls long dead

or recovered.

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Written by
leah-cunningham
American
Published
Dec 12, 2020
Lines·Words
29·137
Notes

12/6/2020

Permission

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