Branches Book

BRANCHES

Kiona McCormick

LIGHTENED

Roots

Unearthed by the paralyzing whiff of dryer sheets, Memories flicker to light—stilled on stiff cots,

I stirred, so I had to wait with the man Of the afternoon light—Now it fades

In Montessori I shrunk—crushed under courtesy cards Silence paved way for safety, till they cornered us In the little red house, hushing, don’t ever tell We couldn’t, for by then, we’d been rid of our sound

Tis the recession! Dinners of oranges and ice soup Do surprisingly satisfy, until the dreaded hour of brownness When the walls tingle in response to rage of the fight in the living room And nothing can fill the pit in my stomach, now

Her leg is red—did I really see that? I can no longer distinguish my sight from my nightmare But it must be true, for the sirens are near And they say this is the final warning

Get in the car. We are driving to Carmel. How can a child choose?

In the end it was fear, which shoved us in back And made us cry at the sight of O’Reilly Autoparts

One day spent at CPS scratches the surface of misconceptions When she goes into the room, the walls boom and echo in anger When he goes into the room, the walls fall silent in fear When I go into the room, the walls tremor in pain

Ed

It is a blur, a controlled, silent, blur Brought about by a shadow inhabiting the mind

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