Peeping Ghost
Daddy said that boy was an unwanted guest.
A head full of nonsense, someone who couldn’t spell a word correctly.
Every night, enclosed in the naive comfort of mute pleasure,
Violating nothing, but a blemished skin and mind,
He would laid stricken by doses of sour pain in his head,
Avoiding another sober illustration of reality he was abused by.
And the stained gleam in his eyes counted a forgotten salvage of a ruined family.
Behind closed cabinet door,
His immovable limbs laid twisted like broken chairs.
Bleeding lips trembled with murmurs of regrets,
Fingers tapping on an empty space.
I peeped through the key hole to see who’s in there,
But the blackness was all that glance back.
(Back off! Back off! Bad kid, bad son!)
The widower had a woman in his arm.
A woman with a ring,
But mommy’s hand was naked, when tragedy smothered her between turning wheels.
(Hush!)
Daddy always wore a great coat with layers of rough skins.
It looked warm,
But that heart was cold underneath, so cold.
He would kicked that boy around,
And when those eyes glimpsed back to illusionary pleasure,
I would peep through the same hole.
(Back off damned kid!)
But I missed mommy!
How many more nights to count?
Until we run out of tragedies to hang atop roof of blessing.
(Hush!)
(Hush!)
The smell of grave was back in the room,
The breath of a liar dwelling low,
The same old kick in the face,
The scream that sounded like hatred.
(Hush! Hush! Back off! Bad son!)
Daddy said I was an unwanted guest.
A head full of nonsense, someone, who couldn’t spell a word correctly.
Every night, behind closed cabinet door, I stayed.
Tell me I would be safe in there.
AG
