Goodnight Mommy

Trees, blinds, ripples, knocks
all too parallel, rhythmic —
bandages through cornstalks
and crawliness of lullabies.

In my own image I mum you:
your felinity is afloat, left is
the skeleton of the trampoline
and the false verdure of
rain garden. The black mask
of paintings and the surgery
of slugs are your word,
from your mouth to my scissors.
Good vigil, maim me.

Lukas Lukas Lukas
horrific loneliness
wobbly earth lasting bondage
She never liked us.
She isn’t like us.
Under the blankets with torches
and timers, we played up
brothers. Birth marks removed.
Crosses hug from
the salacious sky. Donate
me your image, his red image.

play hop scotch in a house of
swings, stairs, bunks, and blinds.
Folded is a song celebrated,
a show of rejection
a lurking palpitation.
Hate is a flip, a bug feed,
a wind caress, sunlight.
A crossbow and a magnifying glass.
Burn marks.
Me Me and Mom.

goodnight mommy_mehtacritic