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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4006 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Osseous Treezaa (T. E. Ballard) We were a family of bones even the trees had no leaves. My brother was not wanted. The drawings on the table were forests of skeletons; no roots just branches turning and tumbling off of the page. The bone never heals, always there is a line, a path. My mother’s breast could not feed him so he laid in my bed nursed on my childhood and this is why I dream of trees. My mother’s trees unfolding their arms across my wall empty, barren unable to take us in. There is a time when a child realizes all foundation is water. It flows softly under her legs. I have tried to forget the sound of my brother as the doctor broke the two curves of femur so he would learn to stand. All I remember now are the white shadows crawling into my bed. |
