Angiebeagoodgirl

Sunlight kisses my eyes, slanting through lobby windows across old furniture and yellow-and-green carpet. and mare's tails, drifting, whisper of more good to come - dry days are ahead. I see you and I see light making these simple things out of darkness and when the sun kisses my eyes I want to kiss it back, and I do, with head full of words and eyes richly speaking. You've said things I remember and don't and I've said things I remember and don't but I remember most when words stopped and our language was spoken through light beams and darkness.

You folded pastel I'm sorrys into delicate bouquets of papery origami flowers. -but pages crumble and papercuts kiss my fingers-

when I asked why wolves howl they told me Daisy, can you not hear it? can you not hear the moon howling first? "you are strong, but you could be stronger" is the mantra they burden me, a seven year old, with. kite strings embellished with blood keep me dependent they ask - "what is one more betrayal? one more death?" it is nothing when I am fourteen and twice as dead as the women next to me. but I am not dead. not yet, because they wrench back God's hand from my body. at twenty-one my waves spill into the bloodied ocean and I can finally hear the moon's howl.