Treasure Island

Rebecca Kate Summers


Cirque


Alone in a dark room
A figure sits
A woman
A girl
Bedraggled hair
White face
Red lips
Scarred
Arms crossed over her chest
X
Clasping each shoulder
Lightly
As though afraid to touch
One hand shakes
Quivers
All she can hear is
Razor blades over a violin
Screech
Her hair is wrinkled
Wet
Like her lips
Chapped and red
Glistening
She’s not in pain
She giggles
Insane
Looks up
Dark eyes
Circled in black
Sunken like pits
Hair, so pale,
It could be green
Dress of purple
Lilac
Fuchsia
Her arms unfold
Her smile widens
Into Glaswegian
She runs her tongue
Across her teeth
Like she’s hungry
“Smile, much? ”
She’ll giggle
As she unveils a knife

Submitted: Tuesday, July 13, 2010

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