Mama’s velvet curtains blew,
moon dust dropped in my eyes,
I cried, died, and tried
Clinging to cranes, to drain
gray words mined in jail.
Janet, the mother, caramel sores
Stole a hug from the four year old,
Furry orange coats, her ice cream top.
One cries sky, the other cries down,
Lavender flowers and screams
Screeches shiver machines
Janet and Tracy escape,
Run the track, curve the shape.
Through waves, they’re forced to sprint
Shaking with fright, kicking the crates
Ripping the curtains and the drapes
A cocoa door, an oaken imprint.
The lost cabin under the sea,
The gypsy moths silk and free
Mama bellows, slams the door,
Emerald butterflies, wanting more.
Panic, holes, walls and crows,
Outside the window, vacant portals
Lines and strikes with a wail to mortals.
An tree in the yard left its fruit with scars.
No care, no scare, no jolting glare, so
The windows rose,
The curtains closed,
As nothing was there
But pain to bare
To accept and swallow,
To ignore the hollow
The suffocation, the hanging,
The poisoning, and fighting
Eventually the velvet curtains