Girl In The Hallway
by khf
I am sloe-eyed and still
staring at him
in his yellow boxers
through a scrim of cigarette smoke
and falling ash
watching the razor scrape through
drifts of shaving crème
punishing his stubble--
sounding of chicken feet scratching dirt.
Frozen blood spits and crackles
in my veins
—gnarled fingers
—icy rootways
Burrowing.
Descending.
Deep into the earth.
Past ancient ruins
to an age somewhere before time.
He is shirtless
Marled skin and kinky fuzz
cover a heart
that has attacked him
more than once.
I live for the next one
Because
I. Can’t. Breathe.
Violence lives in this house.
Stalks children.
Pounds across floorboards
Aiming For The Belt
or
The Jugular
or
childsong warbling sweet on the backyard swing.
I stare through the stale air
the gulf separating me from HIM
and long for his absence
for the scent of rosebuds
on a newborn breeze
four leaf clovers
beneath my toes
sunshine singing through
glistening windows.
He looks at me.
I am a hair trigger
that summons the
angry moth
to piss on the flame.
Fear falls into lockstep
with the underworld of defeated children.
I slink out of the hallway
and fade into the shadows
gauging
monitoring
this endless contest of
hide and go seek.
khf
9.14.22
by khf
I am sloe-eyed and still
staring at him
in his yellow boxers
through a scrim of cigarette smoke
and falling ash
watching the razor scrape through
drifts of shaving crème
punishing his stubble--
sounding of chicken feet scratching dirt.
Frozen blood spits and crackles
in my veins
—gnarled fingers
—icy rootways
Burrowing.
Descending.
Deep into the earth.
Past ancient ruins
to an age somewhere before time.
He is shirtless
Marled skin and kinky fuzz
cover a heart
that has attacked him
more than once.
I live for the next one
Because
I. Can’t. Breathe.
Violence lives in this house.
Stalks children.
Pounds across floorboards
Aiming For The Belt
or
The Jugular
or
childsong warbling sweet on the backyard swing.
I stare through the stale air
the gulf separating me from HIM
and long for his absence
for the scent of rosebuds
on a newborn breeze
four leaf clovers
beneath my toes
sunshine singing through
glistening windows.
He looks at me.
I am a hair trigger
that summons the
angry moth
to piss on the flame.
Fear falls into lockstep
with the underworld of defeated children.
I slink out of the hallway
and fade into the shadows
gauging
monitoring
this endless contest of
hide and go seek.
khf
9.14.22
