Baby's Nightmare #3

Wolf eyes, slits open
Pulling along angry creases.
Green fire burns coldly.
Disturbed, SHE is,
Disturbed, SHE hates to be.

Disguised by darkness--dense, syrupy,
Slipping into corners, under eaves,
Whispering its sly lies of harsh sweetness
Soaked with barbs licked cleaned
By slinky rodents with silver washed tongues

Chocolate sweetness melts upon
Swaddling soaked with urine
And feces.

Alone, the girl child lies,
Tiny heart destined to be devoured by
SHE who hates to be disturbed--
Devoured over years of neglect and disgust.

Tiny fists ball up in outrage.
Fear dilutes outrage’s watery edges.
The cry, wordless, desperate,
Drives a fiery knot through
The frontal cortex of SHE.

Greed, lust, revulsion pour out
In an uncontrolled avalanche
From its hole of a mouth.
Rotted sludge, dank, necrotic with hate.
Better to hate than to feel the despair
Which pinwheels HER innards,
Twirling noiselessly on fetid gasses.

Tiny heart, beats furiously.
Fear could kill her now.
Instead, whether by intervening circumstance
Or the gift of grace by some errant spirit,
Girl child lifts her hand,
Unfurling perfect fingers,
Translucent skin glowing.
As girl child blocks the eyes of SHE
With iridescent fingers
Untempered by the vagaries of disappointment or hate.

And girl child SHINES.

© 2011 Audrey Howitt


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