have you seen…

i cannot recall
the ride
from the city
the cold water
around my feet
and
rushing through
my lungs
seems
so
comforting
unholy water
washing away
my fears
a baptism
of human lust
has brought
me here
to drink
from this chalice
of unfulfilled
childhood dreams
a chalice
brought to my lips
on the blade
of a spear
thrust into my side
by
someone
who did not
even know
my name

the dog run…

 

Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company

she
a child bride
was chained
to his
expectations
but
was
quite free
to run along
a set path
at whatever pace
she chose
and
could make
the trip
back-and-forth
to sanity
as often
as she
wanted
this was
what
he
defined
as
freedom

a strange gift…

 

she was brought here
as a child
so many years ago
away from her village
and the toys of her childhood
to become a child toy
for nameless men
who entered her room at night
taking what they wanted
each time stealing a bit of her
leaving her void of emotions
some of the men would return
week after week
year after year
of those who returned this night
she had offtered them
something special
if they would bring her a gift
a gift that she defined
a small tank of gas
for winter was coming
some duct tape
to seal the windows
from winter’s chill
and one strange gift
an old pilot’s mask
perhaps for decoration
as each left this night
satisfied by her
more than usual
she
smiled at them
a wry smile
but a smile
and
when the night was through
she took her last sustiva
smiled again
knowing
what they
did not know
then
taping the mask
to the tank
fell into a deep
eternal sleep