Shrieks. Uncovered memory.
Get up. Get out.
Vulnerable, trusting, three years
old. Afraid of the dark, of dark
smiles, of dark men. Screams
that bleed the throat,
phlegm and blood and mucus.
Wake up. Get out.
Navy shirt, Navy hand,
navy darkness when he flips
the switch. Flesh under small
soft nails, begging to be heard.
Please. Listen. Please. Help.
Brushed off, lively
imagination, lights turned
off. Still there with eyes
opened, with hands filled
with acorn curls, large strong
nails hiding flesh beneath.
Get up. Get out.
Coughs producing blood. Get
it all out. Purge. Purge the phlegm
and mucus and memory.
Come back.
Scream. Scream. Scream. Scream.
Afraid of the dark. Every light
on. He’s still there, gentle voice.
Slapped on the shoulder, embraced
by those brighter than he. Brushed
off. Begging. Screaming.
Cold tile beneath. Get out.
Wake up. Screams and coughs.
Afraid of dark men and their dark
smiles. Helpless and three years
old. Ignored. Overreacting.
Active imagination. Screams.
Wake up. Come back.
Urine on tile, ice pack on crown.
Scream. Blood. Purge. Wake up.