The Family Tree

The Family Tree

In the beginning there was a tree
where all children begin,
for the Tree of Life bears all mothers.
Each soul created, then pollinated,
becomes a budding artist
of original interior design.
The varieties there are endless
but a tree is a tree is a tree.

Families often abandon bad fruit,
the different-than-us fruit,
and fruit often drops far from the tree.
Never quite believing itself to have been
a part of the same branch,
where the blossom in the bud decayed.
To fall was my only escape
but a tree is a tree is a tree.

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The Master Bedroom of Childhood

The Master Bedroom of Childhood

The door is unlocked, spaces of light guide me in. All at once I sense
the room’s exposure, feel its vulnerability. A long deep breath of
weariness fills my ears. Trying to build up a narrative, my seeking
eyes search for all its yesterdays, yet the grey leaden ash invades,
deadening any hope of discovery.

Forsaken.

Forsaken, there are too many shredded skins here. I lose it all so fast.
The room doesn’t know itself, nor do I. The dirt is too powerful. My
mind strains with unease searching for an order of which there is
none. The tarnished walls, filthy and foul speak, like voices under
water, muddying the air.

Marooned.

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When We Were Sisters

When We Were Sisters

I realise how crazy I must have looked
Rushing in like that
With my face all shiny with love
Firmly pressing my heart in your hand

No, really it’s too big just for me
I remember saying
And my writing hand needs a break
Besides, I’d really like to share

Oh look see how it suits you!
Honestly, it looks so good on you
And don’t worry
You’ll soon get used to the warmth

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