HELD ME LIKE THE BABY I WAS
we smell the forest fragrance red and the trees healthy or they are
rotting the land is tilled to grow poison now we are not close enough
to the water or the river or the lake and we go to sleep heavy in little
houses or they are stalls in beds of hay in boxes or they are coffins
where i ask who rules this sad valley with draining eyes stain on the
ground we work little pools of memories leak out our bodies to give
flashes of hands stroking through the wet hair moments of laying
little body limp to feign sleep in that time we get carried in from the
long car ride myself out to the ocean myself alone now no anchor
remembering your tall strong figure on the ground grown cold i am
left here everyone looking on this small child in the forest my body
breaking just like yours did once you smiled so big when i opened my
eyes to see you
Author’s Bio
Pamela Lisa is a poet living and writing in Montreal. She documents and archives her self as it evolves through time and trauma. Her poems, dream: flip the mattress and dream: only two, have been published in Yiara Magazine. She believes in poetry.