Face down/on my knees
Unknown evil claws and shreds its bludgeoning shaft deeper than my depth
And I become not me.
& Weep not for the memories which are no more
Nor for the woman my Mother bore
But weep, instead, for the little girl
Who dies each day a little more.
Satin for her coffin,
(A rosary for her sin).
Who will take the porcelain shell and gentle her within?
&Carry her with tenderness to where the grass is green?
Lower her into the ground
Dust her silent screams?

Alice

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