by Bee 

Locked deep within my body is a story no one told.
Memories of dirty moments fracturing my soul.

Compartments in my psyche kept it locked away.
Pretending to be normal became the conscious way.

Gaslit rooms and acting “everything’s alright”.
Drinking down the feeling, helped me in the night.

A dissociated person, out of body all the time.
Searching for the healing, not seeing what’s inside.

‘TIL the man who was supposed to love me waged a deadly war.
A weapon so precise it blasted through the door.

Flashbacks flew out like lava with fury and with force.
The man, stood idly by, sadly lacking true remorse.

His motives, truly evil, backfired in the end.
Escaping all the wreckage, myself I had to tend.

I brought myself to safety and can finally hear the cries.
Of all the heinous acts, that my body had locked inside.

by Heather Rae

maybe I won't
get hitched
on the rusty nail
that hangs
children's shoes,
spattered 
by mud puddles
or scuffed
by laces
refusing to
behave.
I still
find it peculiar
that each pair
never quite fit
maybe they
weren't meant to.
There was always
the eternal
"maybe next time",
furled in the brows
with silent cries of
"i will try better"
nipping on it's heels.
Soft toes to high tops
and every in-between,
why they begged
and stretched, 
even arched through
the toplines
and moving tongues,
always some give
which counted
for something.
The next time,
soles were bare,
never by choice
(but what was)
percale or cotton
either kept
the dogs 
quiet, just didn't
silent the
snow filled screen
in my head.
next time
it didn't matter,
I lost my matter,
literally,
chalk outline
drawn on the ceiling
not that an officer
would happen by,
see , no more 
steps to climb,
fitting no longer
pertinent
the next time.

by Tsuhai Nzinga

Twas the night of my death, when somewhere in the house
A creature was stirring, tiptoeing, quiet as a mouse.
In stocking feet, sneaking around with care
With malice and forethought, he knew I was there.
The child me nestled, covered and scared in my bed.
As the nightmare creature filled me with dread.
And mamma was long gone, leaving me alone in this trap
She’d left and settled her brain for my long winter’s nap.
And in opening my door, the creeping creature shattered
The peace of me, my safety and all life that mattered.
Away to a place, I flew away in a flash,
Out of body, out of mind, I made a mad dash.
The moon shone upon my body held below.
No luster, no life, no bright shiny glow.
To my wandering eyes, the darkness did appear.
And the creature was upon me, wielding the fateful spear.
The creature spear the driver, moving silently and quick
Some part of me knew something about this was sick.
Closing my eyes, knowing never to call his name
For his belt whistled, he shouted, covering me in shame.
“Never tell, don’t ever tell. You’ll be branded a Vixen!
Never tell, don’t ever tell. Or you’ll prance like Donner and Blitzen."
It was this night I began building my wall
Fuck everybody, damn it, fuck you all.
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,*
When they meet with the obstacle of being born to die.
Into the darkness my body and mind flew.
With a heart full of stone, bitterness and hatred too.
And in the twinkling twilight, I sat on a roof.
Wondering how a God of love could be so aloof.
As I grew in my head, no more turning around.
The past was too dark but to it I was bound.
I dressed myself in shame, from my head to my foot.
I was all dirty, tarnished with ashes and soot.*
A bundle of boulders I carried on my back
The appearance of strength hiding what I lacked.
My eyes, they didn’t twinkle. Though I laughed and made merry.
My cheeks flushed in shame, laughing to hide the memory.
My little mouth drew up like a bow.
Never speaking the ugly truth, but always in the know.
Holding tight to the secret through my clenched teeth.
Smoking and drinking to bury the secret way beneath.
The secret of broad darkness held as a lump in the belly.
Whenever he comes near, I shake like a bowl full of jelly.*
I wish I could be happy or jolly as an elf,
But to see him alive, puts my world on a shelf.
He winks his eye and twists his head
Blaming me for his wrong, filling me with dread.
He speaks not words about his own evil work.
But fills his mouth with lies telling me that I’m the jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,*
He speaks words of rhetorical prose
And springing upon the unaware who listen
He sways their mind with his “good” evil mission.
I once heard him say, when he thought I was out of sight.
“She’s mine and I own her, for I took her that night.”

 

*Words from the original poem. Used without permission

by Heather Rae

never quite.
each flight
of ten 
just as filthy
and my 
dust pan
can't breathe
through the 
cramming,
dirty socks,
mud pies
and pinches
of salt 
just for taste.
clean.
Not quite
The wicked corner
not the only
catcher of each
past particle
shed 
from the naked backs
of little girls
no longer
wanting ice cream,
rather a door 
or a window,
even a crack 
between the floor boards
to elude the piper
who has forgotten
to knock yet again.
clean.
Not quite
Tiles wearing
colorless dresses,
lay below 
tiny lasses
whose inquisitive fingers
tip toe 
through the grout,
certain they remember
the thief with his
burlap bag
who can steal
them too.
clean.
Not quite
Blankets,
sheets and sinking ships
where children still sit
unable to swim.
Wrinkles trap limbs
in icy grips,
soon damp
with sweat stains
that never break free,
haunting each thread
with it's sticky debris.
clean
Not quite
watching soles
stomp water,
tubs be damned,
scourless soap
on a tired cloth
shines a penniless
stone 
left to lament.
Hands of the spent
claw at the skin
begging it to molt.
clean
Not quite
the crumbs
between cushions
Lie as stale
as the moth ridden
coats the young
ones wear,
draped with the foul
stenched air 
of childhoods
snatched,
once so pale
now a patched quilt
on old ladies faces
of the not
quite
clean.

by Heather Rae

My breathing halts
on the flick of a switch.
lights out
cept down the hall
a single thread
makes a familiar trail
a dust , falling over
nooks and crannies
that my eyes
strain , just checking
their posts,
in the night.
One leg
cleverly unveiled
yet clenching
the jaw
of the other,
midst sheet and spread,
desperately shrouding
hidden jewels
that no longer
remember to gleam,
dirt lying at the quick,
from endless digging,
hoping to stake
a higher claim,
in the night.
It's never long
before the hush
is lost,
along with my senses,
making the trek
to tug my mother
from sleep,
"just the house settling"
words dropping at my feet
setting their chins
in pouted hands,
an agonizing stance
fails to hold ,
as once too many
agains
i follow the dad
in the night.
Room after room
for the source
of the creaking,
for if I not
darn a dull
witless cloak
on my head,
I'd not be
his hostage
the thing
the goes bump
in the night.
Braced in a corner
as if I'd dare,
my albatross body
well learned.
My throat stretched
without air to
let ride
a silent scream.
Once more
and many after,
snared by the monster
who needn't hide.
Finding my way back,
dragging my worth
behind
wishing I'd found
the darkness stiffled,
a stilling of my tremble,
a speck of solace
in the night.