Mothers Cold Hands

(Slits) The hands are fringed with ice,

twisted, bare, folded over the chair.

Eternal rest. Misfortune comes in a

package. The sky blinks, writhes in compulsion.

Pain tastes like the sea ablaze.

Looking through the mirror all I hear

is my mother's face.

-

(Cry) Broken, withered, a million pieces shattered.

This pen is bleeding into my veins. Sweet.

Things are piling up and I see you,

hanging from that bed. Eyes staring,

tearing- spittle upon the dead.

I'll never see her face.

-

(Blood) Cold, he wraps me up tight. Shower her with kisses,

hugs, bullets through her wounds.

She's got a flight, tonight.

You two… you too. I'll go to school.

It hasn't. No reports.

No newsflash. No standstill. No nothing.

The only thing that still stands still-

is nothing. Phone goes ring.

-

A circle if I ever saw one. Mutters,

stutters and I'm out to paradise.

Stop with the shouting. Calm. Tranquil.

Lessons split by trains. Wait. Why am I telling you this?

Spit it out. That's it.

You don't understand anyway. Forgive me.

(Death)