Da
by Elizabeth O'Neill

    He was dumb and clumsy
    because Mother said so.
    He gave and took pain
    Arbitrarily, like God.

    He could draw it out
    through the head, strung on a cord
    from the base of the spine.
    Full moons of his fingertips

    Let ache flow upward, red balloons.
    Childish things collapse and fade
    The flat of my skull
    a steady reminder.

    Crib to wall to floor
    to heaven I can fly
    Vomit in my hands
    Bloody fluid clumps
    like birds fly away

    Occipital
    Fracture
    Aspiration
    Last Rites
    Deliver me

    Yarn dolls, braided hands
    The heaviness of my head
    Whispers of the sisters
    I sleep sleep, delivered.

    He takes me home again
    steals me back in March
    Cracks in the pavement
    Separate this day

    Home, his hands call out pain
    Salt in my mouth
    Fragments of light heal
    and hammer me.

    Home, his hands on my head
    Draw back the pain.
    Half moons of his fingertips
    Cast shadows of regret.






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