Two Poems

A Cold Arc of Eternal Silence

What does he want to go there for
Said my mother, about me
About me, you understand, not to me
A curated third person put-down
About moving four counties away
Beyond narcissistic influence
Far beyond matriarchal control
Her personality disorder, distortion
A life sentence behind her own bars
Locked in her own narrow cell
My false-laid sin and guilt forgiven
Acrid-bitter taste dissolved
It wasn't me, I wasn't responsible
Grief may be the price paid for love
But what if there is no grief
No pain, no hurt, no love
She failed to groom me, to bind me
This is how it was, this is how it is
A cold arc of eternal silence

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A Spent Force

Narcissistic strokes denied
lie as charnel house bones.

Time lapse fragments of
blood-bond rattle and rub.

Disconnected. Silenced.
A hollow echo. A spent force.

Motionless. Interred. Calcified.