Saturday, January 15, 2011

The Gift

There is not much of her left
She is dissolving again
Into places where bodies
Have no heads

Here they scream with their
Sex and they sing dragging
Scratches upon frozen ground

She slips into

The prettiest gown

And the twigs atop the soil
Are a choir of sorrow
As they are defeated by genocide
The result of a godly white flesh

And she can almost remember
The way the pieces of her face
Fell as broken shards would
The sharp ebony eyes descend
Trailed by the nose
And the cozy red cheeks
Black curls dropped like night
Diminishing the glow of
Scattered white teeth that
Once made a smile

And then there was nothing
Above the throat which was
Paused mid-swallow
Like a movie stopped during
A murder scene
Choking for him
All she could think of

Crumpled leaves of
Identity beneath little bare feet
That couldn't stop stomping
Disintegrate and
Tiny flecks fly away
Like small brown fairies


It was a gift
Wasn't it?
To watch them flutter
Up into a universe of
Unknown mind?

And then he gave her an apple
Like she'd won a prize

No, that was the gift
Wasn't it?

The knowledge that
This garden is
A lie

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