I am still churning,
Rolling in the sickening
Hairpin turns of shame.

A child curled inward,
All knees, beside the toilet -
Skin, colored guilty.

Exposed as etched glass
Sitting perched on a place set
Waiting for fingers.

Running down the hall
And back to the dark bedroom,
She does not breathe here.

Yesterday she was
A daughter, younger sister -
Now merely soiled flesh.

08/16/2011

Posted on 08/16/2011
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