Vacant

Satan visited today, a mind empty
is his playground. He moved through
my veins to the heart, beating faster
with every word he licked my wounds.
You are right innocent child,
a burden. I created a monster,
a being like no other. Chanting
away in the middle of darkness,
sobbing.
Take away the pain, devil, I beg of you.
Pray to me child? No, night should
fade, rising light will be bestrode
across me.
When the sun hits you, I′ll still
be there, watching you, twirling
in your memory, a workshop
of my deeds. You conceived me.

Deidre Grotbo

Mask

The thumbnail moon hangs low tonight,
raccoons visit me during the dark times.
Their black masks fit me well, hauntingly
enough.
Silence tattoos the forbidden fruit as weeping
serpents give up on their dream. Hour glasses
turn over and pieces evil scatters across
jigsaw puzzle.
Cacti stands tall, their thorns pierce
my innocence. I slithering past, walking
into the desert. Head bowed, the snakes
follow me.

Deidre Grotbo

Thunder

I flip through the torn pages of January.
Shaking, my hands reach, aching
for warmth. The sun glares and turns
his back.
Breezes make the palms sway,
tired eyes scan the murder scene.
I sketch the criminal. Feeling
venerable, I cross my arms and leave.
Shadows cast, my running eyeliner
marks me, broken. Bright patterns
of dusk stretch among the rooted waters.
I fall to my knees, submerging cuts
and bruises into salt, I curl my fists
in defeat. Beauty dies down to sand,
brushed away.

Deidre Grotbo

The Stirring of Hope and Spells

Violently it mixes the creation,
brewing an exile of craziness,
leaning on a witching life.
I cry, missing innocence.
Burning at a stake, a stake
of truth and common sense.
Only cob webs stretch along
windows, eyes drenched
in rain drops. Aroma steams
from the boil, revealing
loneliness, abandonment,
hatred. A candle is blown
out as the craft is done,
just as the spell. Sprits
rise to the clouds, turning
white, longing to be as black
as thunder.

Deidre Grotbo

The Middle of Summer

Burning ash settles,
sticks in my lungs
like grass stains.
Thorns peel away
the skin of my feet,
water flowing across
a rough stage.
I move closer,
beneath canvas
blocking the sun.
Like a statue
I'm solid,
pure and alone.
A frenzy of flowers
clash into bloom.

Deidre Grotbo