visions

twentyeight

faintly musical // to the tune of "Prodigal Daughter" \\ except the italics

twentyeight cracks in the newborn ground,

one for each day of this year i've kept myself down.

twentynine, never come, for now that she knows;

heaven forbid anything but the queries.

how did you come to this conclusion?

have you told anyone?

how long have you known?

all this, and more, was i asked on the twentyeighth day

of this the new year i've been codemned to.

a year of many more, many hundred more,

days i have to face my mother.

why is it so hard to come out?