#276 of 365 – “cloth patches”

 “cloth patches”

 

my father led me to a shed,

            a room half-filled with cloth patches

laid me on them, gave me poison

            then left and clicked the latches

my blood slowed and my breathing

            lifted into the past

and I saw the memories of all the children

            who’d died before me, alive and vast

I ran my tired fingers

            over the patches I could reach

and knew that mine would soon be with them

            as my spirit began to breach

after my body went quiet, I saw my sister

            walking beyond a hill

but when I came up behind her and spoke

there was no sound for waves to mill

suddenly, I found myself

            being pulled back to the living

and I woke up inside of a sadness

            and confusion unforgiving

 

 

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About Blackbird

Poet, sculptor, writer, spouse, parent, crazy person - not necessarily in that order.
This entry was posted in Confusion, Daddy, Dreams, Dying, Incest Recovery, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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