by Nancy Anderson

Hiding in the cupboard

In existential dark,

The stamps of life beyond my size

Become the thrill of sharks.

The bloom of painful flowers,

Expoding in my past,

Becomes the Armageddon,

Come once again to crash.

My dream of peace and hope. . .

I wake to heartsick soul

Of deathly feeling walking

Through poisoned body cold.

God-awful devil raping,

"My God!" It must be true.

I’m scum-to-scum and ash-to-ash

And death will be the rule.

The ever pushing pressure

Of hate and fear and shame,

Of bandied lies and alibis

And men without a name;

Of answerless conviction,

Of nights spent all alone,

Of wondered whys and heavy sighs

And prayers to end it all. . . .

My dear, you’re ever lovely,

And perfectly at right

To think I’ve not respected

Your nightmares come to light.

I would protect you ever,

But past I cannot fight.

I haven’t swords to fight the lords