There, in the corner, sits the box Out of the way, half hidden by the chair The edges firmly sealed with packing tape How innocent it looks Sitting in the corner, out of the way Benign, forgotten, covered with dust Harmless brown container…. Sometimes it calls to me “Here I am, come, look inside. Open me!” The voice pulls me and seeing There in the corner the box I turn and look the other way to escape its call. Focus on the here and now The beauty that surrounds me The life that has been built Out of the ashes of what’s inside the box. The whisper comes again, Psst just once, a little peek It won’t hurt, come see Pulling me forward Drawing me in I bring the box to the table Cut the layers of tape and string Slowly, slowly lift the lid… ::::FLASH:::: White light, searing pain, ::::FLASH:::: Fist, wall, stairs falling ::::FLASH:::: Screaming, choking, gagging ::::FLASH:::: Hands grabbing, pushing, pulling Blackness, blackness, Breathe, breathe, breathe Focus, reaching, finding lid Close the box Breathe, breathe Tape methodically one strip over the other Hold it in, keep it closed Place it in the corner Behind the chair The knife twists, the heart bleeds I turn from the box and walk on. 7/14 PJ
Posted on: Fri, 11 Jul 2014 23:28:26 +0000
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