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