it tastes pretty. like flowers. even when gripping
the thorns ,
scratching bloody marks into
dark skin
i will drink this poison to breathe
sometimes I think it's the only
relief
it will never leave me
it never does
Your hand grips the base of my throat
Tenderly, with the touch of rosemary
You strangle me like it is your mercy
Father's words are sharp today
He is floating on a different cloud
I am right above him
Just close enough to see his tired eyes and not feel sorry
Look at the clouds above his head, says mother
As she works the kitchen, playing boss with one foot
And housewife with the other
And I look and see my own clouds, slowly darkening
You make him angry, says mother sadly
Using her foot of housewife
So I go back to the hand still wrapped around my throat
And press into its chapped lips for rosemary words
It won't leave, it never does
My sister sings loudly, abrasively,
Shattering the glass behind my hidden tears
The hand around my throat loosens
And my heart quickens
But then the hand is on my shoulder,
gentle. It brings me in for for all the words I need to hear
It's not real, it's not real
But I steady myself a bit now
Where is your sister? says mother to
the singing child
Up in her room, says the child. My mother
looks to my open door
That's okay, says mother to the family. I don't
care about her anyway
Me neither, says father, the bags under his
eyes loosening until they smoothen to reveal
A young and handsome face
Me neither, sings sister, somehow
more prettily than the rest
...
I lean in for another rosemary taste
And all the words that will let me be
YOU ARE READING
RUST
Poetrywhen you hold the moon in one palm and the earth in the other, that's when you know you've won xXxXxXx If words are the anchors, this book is my lifeline. Just a book of poems.
