Sta.sh
Of all the ugly she'd seen scorched
into that Georgia red clay
she remembered most the teeth-grinding silence
as the old man stepped over
his boy's hunched frame;
all the weakness beaten from his bird-bones
and milk skin.
He never screamed, that sweet child of hers -
just bit his fist
til blood burst forth
and took his medicine like a good boy.
They laundered his sheets with salt tears
his chalk cheek pressed tight to her breast as
she stitched his battered skin;
and if the night grew crowded
with his quick-stifled cries
she'd croon lullabies into his damp hair -
songs of boys who walk as lovers
and fairytales:
sweet lies
like lawless love
and bottomless joy.
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Yes, I did get the images. Few words, vivid imagery, very nicely done there.
However, the anti-homophobia I didn't see. I wasn't sure as to why he was being beaten until the author's note.
Lastly, I'd like to share with you a completely unrelated devianterror I thought worked nicely. At first, upon seeing this in =HillsOfMyst's feature, there was no text below the word 'Silence'. It was completely blank.
I found it interesting, anyways.
Thank you for sharing the poem with us.
I'd really appreciate it if you could give some love to the other features and
k
I'm lucky; my father was very different from the ignorant, unloving 'old man' in the story.
Lance