Portobello

Pushing pulling prodding praying
Bruising, biting
I can never be alone
A light in the window, a street lamp smeared by rain
Portobello Road has old world wares and witching houses

I sat on his knee on the couch in the living room
I complimented his mother’s mosaic mirror
And the brilliant colors that it reflected in the light

Alcohol poisoned with licorice and peppermint
The sweets of a child
I was a child
I almost caught myself

Clouds over the moon, shadows on the storefronts
The empty silence, punctured by his needles in my thighs
Pressing against a wall

He leaned close and licked his fingers
Pressing them tight against the yarn in the candle
Extinguishing the flame
I thought that he hissed
But it was the wick, reacting to fire and spit

I imagined piano keys plunking Clair de Lune
And I tried to discover
I tried to find something to discover
I could only recall Jacob’s daughter Dinah
And how God let man be

We were in the dark
He decimated cotton that clung to skin
And bit beneath the surface
Playing inside where he trespassed
Quiet, he soothed, quiet now
This will all be over soon

The colors from the mosaics
Bleed into the wall
Where the oils of my skin seeped

YOU
MAKE
ME