#21

for k.s.

this is no fairy tale
this is a thirteen year old girl
who took her life
this is my daughter crumpling like silk when she hears
this is my son freezing like ice when he hears
this is my friend who sobs on the phone
"she was my kid's age"
this is my son hitting the mattress
"i hate myself"
this is my daughter closing the door
this is the wasteland
this is the void
this is the burning
this is the truth

this is us standing
at the far end of the road
of any semblance of healing

this is me wanting to hold your soul in my hands
like a newborn
fawn


Comments

  • Ashley Elizabeth Wednesday, 12 September 2012

    Doe eyes and precious she needed protection or so...

    Doe eyes and precious she needed protection or so her daddy thought, until her fairytale worldcame crashing down in flames and she had to become the protector of her heart

  • Aurora Saturday, 08 September 2012

    i was never a victim of your blue eyes they were m...

    i was never a victim ofyour blue eyesthey were my gravitywe got red wine on a westwood frat stoopi rubbed my knees raw on your bare mattressi told you you smelled godyou laughedtold me it was just pheremonescame inside mesaid i wasn't into dirty talk, was ithat's okayyou could call it making loveif that made me feel better

  • Yajaira Friday, 07 September 2012

    When I first held you in my hands I was afraid if ...

    When I first held you in my handsI was afraid if breaking youYour tiny body fit perfectly in my cupped handsI couldn't but believe that even my breathcould hurt youWhile I held you I looked out into the worldAnd became more deathly afraidKnowing that it only in this small momentthat I could protect youKnowing that from now on my fear would haveTo be a spear and a shieldKnowing that when my hands could not hold youmy fears would always be my companions...

  • Exitonpch Friday, 07 September 2012

    Spin Yesterday Jax and Lang ran laughing all the ...

    SpinYesterday Jax and Lang ranlaughing all the way into my gut againcatching and throwing a frisbee in the park.When the grass is fresh cut, it lays down in clumpsand poofs into the air with each stepreleasing that green scentthe one that smells like summer.Folks walking dogs stop to chatabout the coyotes who live in the scruband the occasional poster for a "missing cat"that never goes found. We step among rabbit pelletsbut it's too small a park for deer.It's my favorite part of the day(except for the skeeters) lining orange cones 5 yards apart, putting themthrough the paces to teach them Ultimate Frisbee.They only grumble a bit at the sit-ups and pushupslunges and footwork, more so at the sprints.I'll be the Pied Piper with plastic discspaid in smiles and watching them growknowing how that spins back the darkmine,theirs, setting goals and scoring them.One dad paused, wanting to bring his own 13 year oldhome-schooled boy to join, and maybe ask the new boyswho just moved in, maybe the soccer girls next door,all of them to gallop like meteors across the skyand flash teeth like suns. He doesn't get outmuch to socialize, maybe it'd be good for him to meet other kids his agehe suggests. I encourage, Bring him, them,next time, it'll be good.Maybe it'll be enough to keep the roughest part of growing upfrom spinning out of controlmaybe it'll keep themfrom pictures on a poster that's never found

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