Friday, October 23, 2009

A Sleeping Child



The moon stutters through
a shredded curtain,
hanging where a door once stood,
to shut the bad world out.

In a patch of weary light,
she lies on the neighbour's floor,
curled up, tight as a comma,
coughing and twitching all night long.



Dreams disturbed
by whirling blades,
slow burning of lungs, the red
stickiness between her fingers.

A scrawny kitten licks her
savaged face, in delight
at finding unexpected warmth.
The girl's eyes flick wide open.

Yet she sees only that same sight,
half her brother's face grinning back
out of the black crater
they once called home.

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