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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
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
June 2023
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