Have been unearthing the boxes
of my subconscious, clearing ill-
cast tales, intent on an end goal –
restitution at very least, but

my sister, no stomach for process,
wants to suction up the guck –
impatient for a quick cleanse –
plugs the workings:  therapy,

a finicky machine, falters,
water oozes between cracks;
we are flooded by mutual
wounds, personal emoting

ankle-deep in truths neither
can bear, waders, all thoughts
of sanctity dissolving, and I
espy cobwebs forming, corners

once cleansed – dysfunction’s
mockery of hope – reminder
that when roots are rotten,
scars are reluctant to heal.


Fear drives me backwards, spinning
childhood tales, plunging into frigid
waters of isolation, desolation; falling

into the unknown; a mission to heal
the ruptures, out of season, past and
present colliding, frozen in time –

I am in need of extraction, need to
believe in flight of eagles – innocence’s
idol – need to initiate possibility; find

a match to melt icy deception – so
much betrayal – my sun is going down;
I stand at the water’s edge, ready to

launch; innocence and ignorance
co-conspirators of my youth; am
fighting an immature battle, out of

sync, hesitant, prefer avoidance to
combativeness, played one too many
addict’s game, felt the brunt of relapse

am powerless, emotionally responsible,
bear the burden of care, unable to release
control, swallowed by childhood’s chasm.

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