Snow
the first snow of winter
clean and pure
falling tiger lilies
resting on my tongue
melting quick as jackrabbits
running across the yard in springtime
white
like the sheet before the red
i can't feel my legs
and he's breathing in my ear
loud like a pig
and this pain...this pain
...what kind of pain is this?
maybe if i'd stayed eleven...
When spring came
the first one after
i stood out in the rain
naked beneath my clothes
trying to wash his hands off my body
and the sound out of my ears
i don't like to be tickled
he used to tickle me first, you know
before the red...
i find dark spots in the snow now
nothing's pure anymore...
Copyright 1995 by Robin Byrd |
