violent, violet skies

by December Ellis

 

november seeped through 

my front door last night, 

and etched an ache

 

far deeper

 

than when I was a teenage girl.

 

violent, violet skies 

pull on the threads of my coat 

as I step outside 

and walk towards the house

 on minton drive.

 

that home           carved out               my chest,

left a vacant uneasiness

after that young mother and her baby died

late one winter wednesday evening.

 

when my body crumbles on her driveway,

strangers will not be able to tell

where the strands of my hair end,

and the cracks in the pavement begin.