By Lindsay Lanigan
Lids click, flip open
Exposing clouded glass, cerulean, vacantly staring
As sooty tears seep through lashes, sodden,
Rivulets run tracks, sluicing down cherubic cheeks, blackened.
Girlhood bedroom ablaze;
Evocations billow, a blistering black haze
Of the past, charred ash brought back;
Spiraling with a burning vengeance.
Unleashed, noxious smoke chokes,
Rolling feverishly from the macabre source:
The pyre of pelts; beloved stuffies melt,
Synthetic fur smolders
Sending showers of furious sparks;
Spilling, igniting the dark, skittering onto the carpet,
Feasting on fibres, the fire swells;
Heat steams pastel pink papered walls,
Bubbles mushroom, pulsate; corners scorch, curl
Unfurl foul memories, sealed away
Left festering for decades;
Fusillade of fireworks leap leap leap to the twin bed,
Singe the hem of the flowered spread;
Flames tickle licking, wildly flickering,
Tease and taste; she lays, arms splayed;
In flannel nightgown, trimmed with lace;
Paralyzed, she prays:
I want to go home. I want to go home.
This is home.
Not this home.
I want to go home. Far away from this place.
Same, baby girl, same.