Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
john-mahoneyPoems
i. the blood scared me would mother be angry maybe stitches the hot anger of betrayal mixed like a bonnet pepper to spice the fear and the confusion ii. playing with friends in the neighborhood woods the oldest of three brothers threw a wooden potato masher and struck me in the back of the head iii. the root cellar seemed a good place to hide i ran out of the wood across the open field across the street in through the open garage door the kitchen entrance to the mud room and down the back stairs to the laundry, might she be there, and into the root cellar filled with mold, dust, and musty mason jars iv. hiding there, i forget how long now, but the had the blood stopped running warm and sticky down the back of my neck i felt a swollen lump and an aching head v. i do not remember now how long i hid there in the root cellar but the feeling of betrayal the sense of exclusion the intense longing to be a part of that boyhood group all seemed lost vi. some things are not forgivable deliberate cruelty is not forgivable i hope that cruelty is the only real thing i lost, crying, in that cellar, so long ago deliberate cruelty the one thing of which i have never been guilty
0
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 10:30 AM UTC
an incident in the neighbors wood, 1968
i. the blood scared me would mother be angry maybe stitches the hot anger of betrayal mixed like a bonnet pepper to spice the fear and the confusion ii. playing with friends in the neighborhood woods the oldest of three brothers threw a wooden potato masher and struck me in the back of the head iii. the root cellar seemed a good place to hide i ran out of the wood across the open field across the street in through the open garage door the kitchen entrance to the mud room and down the back stairs to the laundry, might she be there, and into the root cellar filled with mold, dust, and musty mason jars iv. hiding there, i forget how long now, but the had the blood stopped running warm and sticky down the back of my neck i felt a swollen lump and an aching head v. i do not remember now how long i hid there in the root cellar but the feeling of betrayal the sense of exclusion the intense longing to be a part of that boyhood group all seemed lost vi. some things are not forgivable deliberate cruelty is not forgivable i hope that cruelty is the only real thing i lost, crying, in that cellar, so long ago deliberate cruelty the one thing of which i have never been guilty
john-mahoney
Written by
john-mahoney
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 10:30 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem