What fresh hell
spreading its infectious
tumors
into organs without
a name
What fresh hell
squeezing the holder
drilling into
sweetness
exposing all the
veins
This isn’t like the
other times
times of
understanding
and forgiveness
This is like the
knife
that carved out that
willingness
Now he’s hiding like
a child
hands over head
And his own children
are silently crying
surrendering to
their beds
the ones that
she
made
that now
they
have to lay in
