HopeShe lay in bed like a rag doll, her head lolled to one side and her limbs rid of all energy. Her stomach rumbled loudly but she couldn’t even lift an arm, let alone get food. Her eyes found her clock; she’d been lying here for hours - nine, to be precise - not speaking, not moving. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest, an intruder may have mistaken her for dead.
A sigh sailed through her, cleaning out her lungs from the gathering dust she felt was congealing in them. It was funny how lying here for hours could make you appreciate even the smallest thing. Like a sigh.
Her mind wandered as the sun slowly shied away into the night, casting long shadows on her bedroom walls. They danced like demons in a fire, stroking her skin and laughing at her stillness. Yet she did not move.
She had woken up that morning screaming and writhing,her bedsheets twisting around her body. The nightmares were infecting her mind again, as they had done every night for the pa
QuarryShe whimpers as she sees the clouds above her,
Twisting and churning into cackling, crackling
Black snakes, spitting venom
Into her eyes, mouth, skin.
Talons claw at her everywhere;
Digging, ripping, scarring.
Great wounds track her body,
Tracking her every move
And her every yearn for a love
That never comes.
She no longer weeps with water, but oil,
Forming running rivers of
Poison that no longer sounds like a word.
How much more must we
Kill our Mother
To learn the meaning of that word
And make her