by Regina Solomond
At eight I outgrew the fear of
Spirits waiting in the shadows
Distorted faces outside dark windows
Roses are red
And snatching hands beneath basement steps.
I slept without my rabbit doll and nightlight.
Bruises are blue
At twenty-four I met you on the subway with your
Combed hair, pressed suit, suave smile
And fell under your spell.
My childhood nightmares
I forgot that sirens are beautiful
Until I was already drowning.
Incarnate in you
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Hi Regina, I like the form of your poem, and also its import.
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