Storm

    by Laura Levesque

Curse the night, its seething mares,

stabled dreams kicked loose and thunder

like an earthquake calling in its aftershocks,

one after another and again

churning once the water seemed to still

You tremble.

He's cut you, little one.

You're bleeding out

and I can't make it better, I can't make it stop:

loop of mania in a ten year old mind,

his black glass in your eyes, turned on breath,

the deepest boiling clouds

of your rage

You scream against me and I cannot

make you calm

and I cannot hold you still and close,

and pace your breath to mine.

© 2011 Laura Levesque

Laura Levesque grew up in Baltimore, MD.  She earned her Bachelor’s in Creative Writing from the University of New Mexico at Albuquerque.  She has been published in Touch: The Journal of Healing, The Externalist, Autumn Sky Poetry, Mirage, Montage, and others.  She lives in Northern Virginia with her family.