it’s difficult
dwelling here
where I can still
hear the demons
that shake the bed
to keep the child awake
the scent of rage
still wafts up
like a dead skunk
through the basement vents
to a pretty blue room
where I’ve been
on constant watch
a vigil
for the next
horrific minute
that you needed
to be saved from
because I
couldn’t get you to stop
playing with the boy
and the knives
even after
you threw them all out
of the kitchen window
I had to
love you enough
to let you hate me
for not
letting them
back in


cs moon 2013

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2 Responses to Dwelling

  1. janehewey says:

    There is such strength, both emotionally and structurally, in your last stanza. I also enjoy your methods of showing the reader the place, from bed to basement and kitchen, while employing strong imagery. I find myself admiring your constant vigil and unconditional love.

  2. Luke Prater says:

    Emotional and strong piece which remains very readable poetry. Heartbreaking sans the mawk.

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