02135 c.1981

Comments (0) Poetry, Writing, Issue 10

Welcome to Brighton sign

Michelle Whalen

Feral is a cat without a home.
Feral is a girl left all alone.


Latchkey,
Atari, the little
boy ghost.
My brother,
the freezer, tongue
frosted the most.

Sacred was a girl all dressed in white.
Sacred was the chicken pox for that child bride.


Guilt
absolved, pass
the plate high.
Sins,
confessions,
ice cream cone Christ.

Feral is a girl watching pornos at night,
Sacred are the sitters in her early life.


Wind
through the sills,
whistling rattles.
Playgirl,
Tom Selleck,
Cinemax scrambles.
Satin sheets,
Pink rollers.
Make-up is Annie’s.
Turnpike
noise lulls,
grinding teeth, flannel jammies.

All-skate
at Wal-Lex,
Friday night meet.
Handlebar
ride home,
streetlights to beat.

Sacred is Sunday dinner that’s eaten at two.
A feral fight for charred ends, and a glass of blood, au jus
.

Packing, goodbye,
triple-decker sold.
I took a slice of a tree with a decoupaged Pope.
Last hope.
Lost cottage, home at the Weirs.
Family legacy thrown away through projectile tears.

Sacred memories of childhood homes.
Feral is the girl who took a lifetime to roam.


Sacrilege is a return to unwelcome tones.

Feral is righteous,

I will
not atone.

A girl is home now and
not alone.


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