The Atlantic Daughter

Microscope visions

a girl who never had a choice

watch her suffer

see her whither

white pain 

hits behind the eyes

smothered

even if the air is clear

The world

is on her shoulders

giving Atlas a break

his back must be sore

her’s is aching 

she is only human

Does she seem incapable

a fool

living like a scholar

Pavement scrapes

holes in her skin

when the stones reach

the other side

there’ll be nothing left

Even your “good”  advice

is a jagged blade

twisting

turning

torturing

As she smiles

cheek to cheek

her composure

crumbles

rocks grind

at the pit of her stomach

fluid begins

to well up inside

a  wave of nausea

rushes over her body

her face

dowsed in milk 

an oleander reflects her porcelain

Eyes are eclipsed 

She is at ease  

Park Bench

Park bench

Confused pigeons

Vacant

Long time

Since the old man