home and abroad

Sunday, September 28

I packed only the essentials,
laid them all out in front of me.
My tiny stuffed kitty, three nickels,
assorted lego pieces for protection,
fruit snacks shaped like sharks and monsters.
My small gummy worm fingers dropped
them into my baby blanket, yellow softness
and drenched in my smell.

I dashed to my dorm and threw
essentials into a plastic bag. 
Underwear, shirts, phone charger, baby blankets
still steeped in my smell, the tiny kitty too.
I had bruises etched into my collar bone
and was still bleeding between my thighs.
He'd had me for three months and no one knew.

The bundle was light and easy to
tie up on the broken stick I'd 
found in the yard. I was 
a 1930s runaway, ready to jump
into a boxcar and head to California.
I'd run to my aunt, the woman with
the same lips as me, the same
little rosebud smile and auroral eyes.

No one knew how his hand covered
my rosebud lips and stole the
glow from my eyes. No one
could see the Dahlia grin bleeding
its way to the surface of my cheeks
every time he touched me. 
It was time to run.

I slung the stick across my shoulder
and marched to the end of my driveway,
the orange September glow blazing.
Suddenly she called my name.
She started to smile as she walked to me 
but saw my determined brow and faltered.
Oh Emma, I'd never let you leave home, baby.
You'll always have my arms to hold.

I drove into the November chill and
called the woman whose arms 
were always there even
when I pushed away the most.
Three hours and I'm home, mom,
I'll need a hug when I arrive.
Oh Emma, I don't want you home.
I know what you've been doing and
you're not welcome here.

We sat in the family room and ate 
cherries until our fingers smiled red.
She unpacked my bag and
wrapped me in my baby blankets.

He was sitting in the dorm room
when the key jammed its way in the lock.
He sliced my bag from my hands.
He ripped my baby blankets. 

via *

8 comments:

  1. Beautiful writing just stunning xx

    http://ourstorycanresume.blogspot.co.uk/

    ReplyDelete
  2. it is hard for me to read. it is such good poetry, but you manage to evoke so much, it boarders a very dark side which worries me, i worry about you, about what you might had to go through, to be able to phrase something like this, if that. makes. any sense.

    your comment was sososo helpfull. if i find something that helps i'll let you know asap, but really, you telling me about this state being familiar already helped me sooo much

    much love,

    L.

    ReplyDelete
  3. your writing has been unreal lately Emma. Raw raw raw!

    ReplyDelete
  4. ^ I agree with Shelby. Raw is the best way to describe this poem.

    ReplyDelete
  5. these topics are so difficult to write about, yet your words are always so delicate.xx


    dreaming is believing

    ReplyDelete
  6. so beautifully interesting, deep and dark and twisty and i really fucking adore it. i am still here, i still am reading. and i don't think it will be long before i am back... xo

    ReplyDelete
  7. Well written even if the subject matter is dark. You're good, you should be proud.

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for your words; they light a fire in my heart. You are lovely.