A Bottle, a Ship, An Ocean
I feel it in the pit of my stomach and
in the stinging of my eyes. I try
to blink it away to
turn my back to the mirror to
avoid my reflection.
My childhood is dragging behind me like
a shadow I sewed to the soft of my sole and
I want to peel a tangerine maybe
give her half. I still avoid
my reflection.
I have buried the boys like
seeds. There are so many flowers
blooming in my lungs
there’s barely any oxygen
left
behind.
These are tumultuous times I
tell the ghosts and like
ships they heave up and down the
coving and they nod and
disappear.
I carry my dad’s rage like a
talisman I was forced to hang
around my neck like a
ring that needs to be destroyed.
And the boys and the ghosts and
the little girl with the tangerine they
all look up at me and I’m
only getting older; I still
don’t know what to say.
Copyright © Eva Christodoulou | Year Posted 2023
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