Sizzle Poem by Ann W

seems to me for a long time now lord
i have prayed.
i have watched the humans
have their way.
the quiet ones sizzle on the burners.
ptsd is the ugly name.
when do you turn down for us
the wretched heat?

i loved a dead man.
i love him still.
i speak to him.
tell me your name, i whisper.
sometimes he does.
sometimes he cocks his hat
and brings me fresh flowers.
his smile is seraphic.
he hides.

i have for so long entered
into these dimensions.
call them fantasy.
call them what the mind needs
to survive
all the heat.
i will love him.
he and i will dance.

for without him what am i?
just another victim
of men who didn't care
how much they made her
burn.

Ann Witt
copyright 2020