Drowning Sounds

[RamirezGhost]

As a child: I wore palms, crude licks, stains
on cotton—the articulate rose could bend, peel
without breaking; compare its glory to bone
and youth. I always broke; you held me
in a cautious fist-splint to crack stalks
upon mending. Lipsplitter, would you go,

broaden across blue mountains, deserts,
battlefields, hospital tile?
Could you come back with temper slaked
by distant cursings, distant pin-shakes
whipping poles and
child scratchings?

My blood can no more be warm; in fear,
in fear—it will not course red, the rose
will not bend.
Keep the plaster wet. Your face is impossible
and innumerable, has me set sick
at arm’s length, knuckle’s pulse,
the only pulse my heart
knows well.

[Elle Rush]

This conjures up someone that has or does take a lot ... someone abusive, it seems.. you are watching this happen? Not for certain, but that is where this takes me- the darkest of places. Seems like a crazy scene and that you-the author were helpless in it?

So daunting, dark and sad.

[Randacello (MirandaRae)]

I read abuse in this as well, specifically an abusive parent. This one went to some raw, dark, and deep places.

Miranda

[RamirezGhost]

You have read into it well.
Thanks for the read and comments!