Forced Change

Forced Change

     Shivers sent up spine.

Book, read a thousand times 
thundered through deaf ears.


     Whip's swoosh sings in harmony.

Words break through foam
waves crash, sentences press
imprints in wrinkled
blood soaked flesh.

     Change will be forced upon us.

***

Okay, you're writing for the world.  That's great.

I have an idiosyncratic belief that we poets have a duty to be professional

(or at least, to adhere to professional standards).

Imagine this, if you will.

There's a spine.  A book spine.

It's wrinkled and broken.  It has seen better days.

Clearly, the Bible has been owned and used.

Its letters are faded.  It's torn.

Maybe "HOLY" is damaged, and now reads "HO".

Now maybe we can hear a man, grunting rhythmically.

He's muttering distractedly.  Some of his mutterings

seem to be biblical, but it's not clear.

Gradually, we come to understand.  We see a boy's

spine.  It is cut and bleeding.  A weapon is striking

the back, rhythmically.

Now we see the boy's face,  He is tied and restricted.

The only thing he can see is the HO BIBLE.

Finally, the man - we now understand - is fucking the boy.

He is telling the boy that he is a whore, using biblical

quotes.

I can believe that this is very upsetting for you to read.

In a sense, I hope it is.  I don't want to hurt you or bring

up unpleasant memories.  I want to EVOKE something,

to COMMUNICATE.  

Have I succeeded?

***

June 10, 2017 

Copyright © Darren White