Thursday, January 12, 2012

Poem, Mommy's a Killer, 1-12-12

Fearfully plotting and secretly sad
running on alcohol called once a hag
living in squalor from a life of dysfunction
harboring poison and injecting its cousin
into the light filled and prospective prey
into the newness of dew from the day
into the promise of everything cleared
hiding in earnest with a head full of jeers.

Projecting death unto any who look
disquiet fussing and pretending to hearth
the home looks quite cozy but all who emerge
seem to be starving or dying unheard.
If mommy's a killer
and daddy's not home
outlook is stormy until someone moves
to call out the irony
block off the stare
block off advances appearing as care
but offering nothing but destructive goals
complex and ruthless mind knits and grows old.

--EVE Featherstone

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