Breech - From Lies Sweetly Whispered

I met this you last week 
in a fusion 
of the real and 
a kind of longing for something more 
a gradually sudden discovery 
of things 
you never wanted to know. 

This you, so strange and new to me 
savoring the ability to wound 
brandishing your will 
like a knife, 
sharp steel, darting quickly and easily 
between sadist and martyr 
as I fell away 
into an unwanted awareness of 
suppression and denial. 

I don't remember exactly 
when it was you woke from nightmare 
to find me beside you 
the only place I could have been 
struggling like you 
to understand the chaos. 

It was a breech birth, 
a burden carried too far past term 
to come easily 
so you lay back 
angry 
at me, or God, or anyone 
who would come close enough 
to feel your pain. 

Now I see you days later, 
nursing your infant self, 
some nameless emotion 
etched in your face and eyes, 
the child squirms in your arms 
whimpering to be fed 
demanding your soul 

and you reach out 
to heaven--looking 
for a goddess to save you 
or a ray of sunshine to sustain you.


© Donna J. P. Riley