pearls

Afterthought 28—Gaslit

Posted in villanelle by maggie on 2014/12/19

Her I've meant no ill
— at her worst she did it for my best.
But if love can't touch her, what will?

Sorry, I've had my fill
of having my friendship second-guessed.
Her I've meant no ill.

I believe. She says I don't. Still …
— I'd give it a rest,
but if love can't touch her, what will?

My bruises? Scars? Gone nil.
Names she called me?  Surely cut in jest.
Her I've meant no ill.

She's my tomorrow's home, with no until
— my unsaid words expressed.
But if love can't touch her, what will?

Rather to kiss than kill:
even an abuser deserves being blessed.
Her I've meant no ill;
but if love can't touch her, what will?

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Protected: Overdraft 66—Insidious Kiss

Posted in crown of sonnets, curtal sonnet by maggie on 2013/03/15

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Protected: Overdraft 12—Crackdown

Posted in curtal sonnet by maggie on 2013/01/24

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Protected: Overdraft 10—Easy Target

Posted in curtal sonnet by maggie on 2013/01/22

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Routine Nightly Routine

Posted in nothing special by maggie on 2009/10/03
Routine Nightly Routine

The house breathes deeply, usual for the hour
when to their fancies angels dreams devote
except where one gets shoved into the shower,
a kitchen knife waved crudely near her throat

so she'll behave, while all the others sleep
like floating in some forest's hidden pond.
A washcloth's stuffed into her mouth to keep
her quiet while she's pressured to respond.

Like hide and seek her cousins chase their rest
into each laughing game their thoughts can find
to use for play.  Her own must get undressed
for feeling up then taken from behind.

One darling stirs half-waking as though roused
then slips back to dark shadows seen within
the secrets guilt from innocence has housed.
The bruise inside is all that marks a sin.

The darkness settles back into a snore
like tiny wings escaped in naïve flight
far distances. What she's been brought here for
will get itself brought back tomorrow night.

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