SHADOW HEART
Menu

Blog

Picture
"Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions"
- Edgar Cayce

this ivy prison

2/17/2022

0 Comments

 

at the grave of my soul
i beg the dirt
to save my child

a record 
skips to the past
my mother
in a prison waiting room

emptiness is already
blooming in my bones
i smile at the guard
and he looks away

 this is the day
my mother lost
 all her tears

 the ivy prison
where my inked fingerprints
bled like blood

my daughter's
father
will  lie like
the man behind 
the table

 in her sleep
angels whisper
the truth
she doesn't listen

her daddy's lies
 are a  potent elixir

in the end
the demons  save her
my child fingerprints
in prison ink
mix with the tears
of my teenage mother

destiny is conjured
a rag doll
consecrated
in a prison water fountain
​
my daughter was
just 
making  a pact
to be born then

water fountain tears
a table of splintered lies

cruel men run rough hands
over surfaces
and don't feel anything

my dead dad 
knocks 
at the door 
behind me

 he wants to make amends
i tell him to do 
my bidding
​
save your granddaughter
 from
a liar like you
a bully 
a brute

i peel his prison tattoos 
while i tell him this
burn them as an offering

he has no choice now
no where to go

i send him
images of my teenage
mother while he beat her
he thinks i was too young 
to remember

her bent beneath him
while he held a beer bottle over 
her head

my mind is all fire
 as 
i recall how i came to be
his rape
made me this
shaman witch
a child
the demons born
within me
turn on him

i watch them
feed off him
 in that prison waiting room
 fluorescent lights
and mint green walls
 stale gum and smoke

i watch from the corner
 with my rag doll
i am only 3 
a strawberry embroidered
on my shirt
is my hope
and also the 
  gaping hole that
never leaves me
and consumes this room

i touch the water fountain
 my toddler fingers
drip black blood ink
i don't drink
from the prison spout
i will be  thirsty
for the rest of my life

my mother's 
tears are beautiful
to everyone here
they are all sadist
the doll 
and i know this
and come to an agreement
that life is shit

dead daddy
i am 
sending you another
shitty father
a liar just like you
to keep you company 
in your cell

i give you this present
a tattoo gun
so my poetry bleeds
on every inch of his skin

hold him down
like you held my mother
hold him down
like that girl 
who was my age 
and sat on a bench
one day to tell me
you raped her
we had the same name
i believed her

you made it so my daughter
doesn't believe me

daddy
he won't feel a thing
he is just as cold as you
the only difference
is he went to college
​and grad school







0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Author

    Michelle Tinklepaugh


    ​

    Archives

    December 2022
    November 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021

    Categories

    All
    Poetry

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home/About
  • Blog
  • Home/About
  • Blog