Clean.

If you will not take her
She will be abandoned.

So Nikita arrives dragged by the rope
Over the smooth forgiving tiles
Too destroyed to look us in the eye.
Needing to hide her head
From all of the people she has known so far.
She drapes her ribs underneath the table
Over the chair stretcher and then she shuts down.

Becomes like a caged animal
With visionary eyes that she has had to take
To make
Her world bearable.

One year old and damaged so well.

The rope was so thick and harsh
We spent days gently undoing it
Bit by hated bit.

How easily we do destroy
How lucky we have such good cleaners.











Poetry by limber junctionson
Read 753 times
Written on 2008-08-05 at 03:08

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