Friday, February 16, 2007

A journey for Jack

Dark, light,
Five-year-old
boy
Dadda and a street and a horse drawn taxi
They speak English, Jack understands German
Don't leave me here Dadda, don't leave
Golden curls, big green eyes
Did your Momma once curl next to you,
inhaling your youth scent and innocence?
Tiny boy, alone
A doctor, a thin proud stiff nurse.
Tied to the table, metal underneath
and choloroform is not yet used in England
they spread those little legs apart,
and cut
and cut again
scalpel
Trying to fix that little penis fast, for a third time, not much left
sew
silk and needle
cry and scream and cry again
only pain
no Momma, no Dadda
Did your Dadda's heart break and harden when he handed you off?
only weeks alone in a cold hospital
only pain.
No wonder you grew up angry
evil.

6 Comments:

Blogger Inkblot said...

3 blogs, 3 senses of you

wanted to comment on life goes...on 'I will'

yes it goes- along with you- wherever you will wander- keep the heart safe and the mind close:

why elva?

2/16/07, 10:50 AM  
Blogger therapy said...

I'd like to know what inspired the piece

2/16/07, 8:39 PM  
Blogger Woman?? said...

Echo:

Painful.

2/17/07, 12:10 AM  
Blogger aria said...

This left me sore ..

2/18/07, 2:04 AM  
Blogger Hari Potter said...

brrr....that was disturbing.

2/20/07, 3:43 AM  
Blogger Echo said...

This is a case of truth being nastier than fiction as can be found in Patricia Cornwell's non- fiction account, "Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper Case Closed." A very in-depth forensic look at the Jack the Ripper killings essentially proving artist Walter Sickert as the ripper.

2/20/07, 7:49 AM  

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