The Jabberwock

sweet child
I see you snowman in the sunlight
frayed t-shirt
sweat-dotted brow
the pebbles & stones of your expression recede to a gentle frown

precious gemini
gentle voice attached to my eardrum
I must have lent you my old eyes
For I know how you want to see the story end;
maiden married
righting of wrongs
salve to the wound of ages

docile neighbor
roommate, lover,
these stories made of matchsticks
ignite flash fires in souls & burn out
my inflammable story is as follows;

& we all suffer the same blows apply the same remedies & they keeps their teeth
& the boy bites, though he shouldn’t have, & though his stomach was full
the boy bites & gets muzzled
& I am not his fangs, & I am not his midnight howl, I am an aching pit in the yard the boy throws his battered skeleton into

& I remain open, as no one has yet covered me in.

“Written as a message to my friend and a reflection on cycles of violence.”