Flashes; Mine
in october
breath shatters silence
morning fog envelops my body
parched leaves on my skin open their mouths to
a cloud of dew.
light
from small window swings low
talking through a dream.
skin imprints
a voice
tells me how to move
memories scratch at my brain
little rats.
empty hollow in my stomach grows
growls
limbs replay learned helplessness
waiting for survival in surrender
i am twenty five twenty
sixteen
traveling down the river of time
in the boat of my bed
sleeves full of tears.
sweet tears
run down my open palm
soothe the beast
till i start kissing away wetness off my hands
in october
i hold smallness of a lone embrace
learn to waltz
down this hill i climbed in awakening
every morning i dance
December 2020