Dawn
I remember.
You sat strange and awkward among the furniture; and
daddy wouldn’t like those dirty feet on our floors, and now I’m woven with the plants into the earth and
it doesn’t matter anymore.
Oh God! Out in the trees, you made a terrible mess of it.
They will talk like I’m still here:
bubblegum girl, swelling to an airless burst
a scream in the night like the cat upset the record player and
sent the needle scratching, scratch scratch scratch at my window for cigarettes
and silliness. Where were you
when your fingers did something they’d regret?
‘m not scared.
Two perfect moons in the dusk, the dark holding the road
underwater, struggling for breath against
all the liquid sugar in my lungs.
If you swallow gum it stays for seven years
and where am I in seven years
in ten
in twelve
in a hundred?
Seventeen. Back road. Woods. Night.
Boy. Gun.
Daisy Harris
Inspired by ‘Dawn’ by Rose McGowan: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2v08xa
Daisy Harris Poetry 