‘Oed’ und leer das Meer’

 

 

You gave me hyacinths from your garden

 

Crude little buds that were as green as those lies lies lies

that ricocheted out of your mouth

and into my throat

I had become nauseated because of those incipient little blossoms

 

I imagined a prickled case

around those bulbs

it encased my heart from you, Father

they would see your wicked smile

and shallow eyes

they would beg me to curl into myself

 

But you had known of their protection

you had snapped them

Obsidian hands the color of those devils eyes

would reach out to strike my hyacinths

the gift you had given me

 

You let my flowers die, Father

you didn’t have to pluck them

if you had been wiser you would have known

how effervescent your eyes were

My hyacinths cowered because of that

 

Only broken strings stare back at me now

A splint instrument

with strings unattached

I have detached myself from you, Father

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