Only this reoccurrence
with spine-chilling threats
desecrated
my sanctuary
If I were transparent
falling through glass
the second it takes
to shatter
would be the abduction
numbing my childhood
my skin
my sanctum
Father, you were not looking
when
the old woman
grabbed my arm
I screamed. Blood
ran from my nose.
Father, her cold hands
her splintered eyes.
Father, take this memory
take it from me
before there’s another
before the old woman comes
again.
She is cunning.
Father, I screamed.
My throat tightened
Dah’s seventh poetry collection is Something Else’s Thoughts (Transcendent Zero Press)
and his poems have been published by editors from the US, UK, Ireland, Canada, Spain,
Singapore, Philippines, Poland, Australia, Africa, and India. He is a Pushcart Prize and
Best Of The Net nominee and the lead editor of the poetry critique group, The Lounge.
Dah lives in Berkeley, California, where he is working on his eighth book of poetry.
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