Dream

Two infants, the size of mice,
being fed with trembling hands,
sealed sideways in a plastic coffin.
My sisters voice- a verdict
"They should have taken them from you."
I begin to claw at her, throat torn with No,
as grief spills like glass shattering.
Sirens bloom across the screen,
police swarm the house like locusts.
Powder rains over me,
a storm of guilt i cannot hide.
I scoop, I flush, i drown the evidence,
but the panic clings,
a second skin I cannot peel away.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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