All posts tagged light

December 2013

Published December 13, 2013 by April Fox

ImageI found this hiding
in a corner
(dark and damaged)
where I left it
to stay safe.

The sunlight ripped my limbs off
trampled on my fingers, nerves still
blinded me through
shuttered lids
burned my eyes
through lashes
melted off
like ice
Stripped my voice and left me
silent, hearing
but the
that stopped my heart

There were cobwebs everywhere
and the spiders sewed me up
with heavy thread.

When the sun comes back
I’ll offer this
to you.

November Nine 202 AM

Published November 10, 2012 by April Fox

“I think I’m getting better,” I said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“My head,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, “Yes.”

And I believed him, because that’s what I do

these days.


I still need him to keep the light off


I breathe better in the dark

and sometimes every word

is forced out

through a haze of self-defeat


When I lit my hands on fire

the smoke was sage

in the lounge of some

poncho-clad hippie


I tore my voice apart.


“I think I’m getting better,” I said.

“Yes,” he said

and turned out the light.





%d bloggers like this: