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Bed Of Bones

by Lisa Russell, 2014 ©

 

She is the serpent amongst the grass,

a bare skinned girl in the forest of teeth and nails,

a butterfly trapped in a hornet’s nest,

the ant stuck in the sap dripping down.

She sleeps on a bed of bones

between the walls and inside your mind

in your nightmares.

 

She lives in a home of crumbled walls,

tomato plants growing in the bathtub,

that stench never washing off

always brings her back

something like a skeleton

walking from this bedroom to you.

 

She will never remember what she chose to forget

but that choice will haunt her the rest of her days,

holes eaten from her brain like moths in her skull,

cigarette burns through faces in photographs.

If you name the monster the fear becomes real

and the tears will flow

like the blood from our wombs

welling up only to burst.

Freedom hangs like stars in the sky

she can’t feel the heat of the sun on her face

and she can’t help but want to be consumed

warm in someone’s belly

just for a little while.

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