Poem: Five through Ten

Girl in South Korea, Insung Yoon, unsplash.com

Peeling an apple free

like Eve was never evil,

and Adam was an asshole,

blaming her for what he wanted.

I’m lazy stretched out small

a Muppet sized Hobbit

propped on sofa cushions on oceanic rugs

watching Saturday Morning Cartoons

with my brother

until the slavery starts.

Dr. Father will ask me to sit with him.

He wants me in his lap again,

but I sit beside him,

morph into bones

shaped as an ancient 7 yr old:

starlet, stripper, harlot.

Brother is ashamed

but there’s nothing he can do

but leave me in my angelic hell

and hope it’ll be over soon

or he convinced himself

we’re just imagining things.

The only thing that kept us

alive was each other.

Seconds ago we were laughing,

at Scooby dooby doo…

Father, what’s wrong with you?

but he won’t stop until I’m honey combed

empty, malleable child and bride

laying me out to bed

as if we were wed,

nothing really happened

but it did,

while mom was out

in the grocery store shed,

shopping and paying our bills

with never ending frugality and worry.

I double up to survive

disappearing

into the crease of a flower in the ceiling

pretending ignorance.

In the astral nothing is real.

Waking startled in my bed

by the brightness in the room,

I’m overwhelmingly thankful

that it’s only the moon

looming and not my priestly Father

lonely shapeless vampire vulture

caressing doorways though

with his electroshock hands.

I was always leaving someday soon,

always planning my escape silently.

Good bye Mama was the hardest

choice I made to save myself

with guile into voluntarily exile.

I’ll mirror you in a trance

I’ll marry myself free

see,

Mama,

this fable

is a turtle who survived as a pirate

outwitted her predators

one by one by one

and found her own way home.

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