inside 1987

May 31, 2009 § Leave a comment

They sit in the back room

Surrounded by guns in glass cases

He raises a lighter for her,

Who is rocking on his chair

Inside his legs

Between his hands,

To see


His fingers pinch her neck

The other hand

Grasping at her skirt

Scratches her thighs with a metal tip


She is too young

Not to like it

The guns tell her

As they look down on her

With one eye cocked

& one eye closed


Chewing her upper lip

The lighter jitters

The Bible sits on a shelf

Just out of her reach


Outside dandelions have grown old

Wood piled

Nails tucked in plastic boxes

Like sleeping children


By fingers or flesh

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