Treasure Island

Dónall Dempsey

(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

3rd Person Singular

she is the mist
she is
lost in

by herself
she is frightened
of her self

she feels fear
in the very flesh of her
the bones of her

she sees herself
as if she is
the 3rd person singular

she has lost
the 'I' of herself
has become an 'it'

'It' talks
to herself
about her self

the flesh of her
she wants to strip herself
down to the bone

her skull
eager to be free
of its flesh

she longs to be
bone white bone
pared down to

voices other than hers
invade her senses

sleep like rain
washing the world away
she wants so much not to exist

hospital in the rain
stuffed with suffering pain
a little death every now and then

rain becomes snow
snow falls
covers the world in quietness

snow falls on those dead
for centuries...centuries
marble angels look hopelessly to a Heaven

Submitted: Saturday, June 02, 2012
Edited: Saturday, June 02, 2012

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  • Danny Draper (9/26/2012 4:13:00 PM)

    Evokative and painful, yet lyrical lulling sedately into a pared down core of emotion and an indignant introspective dispossession at its core of resigned isolation. (Report) Reply

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