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Thyme Vespers

of

Saint John, NB, CA

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mugdung@yahoo.ca (Thyme Vespers)


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stillborn sister

by

Thyme Vespers


if i close my eyes hard enough
i still cannot see their faces
as their unborn eyes squint into the dirt
of an uncaring body.
my body is drenched in the reddening spray
of the miscarried blood
as it spills down the woman's thighs
and into my hands.
dripping through my fingers,
i feel what i could have been.
i smell her what her body is now,
as it shriveled up,
died,
and escaped what i now see
through her eyes,
i now live and see
what she should have seen..
maybe the smell on my hands
is her hatred, screaming down at me
for posessing the life she was denied
somehow i sense that if she had not sunk away
into the depths of non-existence,
i would not be here..
or perhaps, i would not be alive the way i am alive today.
dark and collapsed,
with nothing to call my own.
i know she is my blood,
as i watch it slowly slip off my fingers
and onto the floor
to mingle with the dirt we walk upon.
and the woman turns her head the other way,
never to think of you
as i think of you..
because i'm living for boh of us now.
the death you experienced
has made me stronger
and when you were thrown out like a package
not needed anymore,
as if you were never alive
as if you were never my sister
that i could have cried on and held hands with
today,
i became something more bitter
alive,
but bitter..
so i'l live for both of us now,
and not keep you as an ignored being
thrown away and forgotten about
like all those other days that followed
where everyone whould look the other way
and pretend as if it all never existed..
as we get swept under the rug,
i cry for you
as your blood is stained-red on my hands