you don’t remember
slicking the switchblade
from your back left pocket
to open your mail
or giving slimy eyes
to curves
shrinking deep into the bottomless sofa under
the loft bed in your dorm room
slithering your six-foot-six
bulk to bed the deadbolt
locked – five hundred miles
across the room
you don’t relive remembering
then wait to scrape
the scabs away again
tears and tears vanish
on the way to the dorm dinner
with a diet coke and camel light
until the urine burns –
bites consciousness into
the brain labeling VICTIM
almost able to reminisce the days before
that sofa
that ladder
that loft
those hands
snake-ing their way
across thighs
file under SURVIVOR
until opaque bronze
mingles easily with
steaming
bath
water.
A contest entry
- PIF Contest -The Dark Stuff by RunningWithScissors.
330 points, ended October 25, 2007, 6 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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