The Sad Truth About What Comes Next
In remembrance of Sandra Cantu
you can’t remedy it
you can’t remedy it
you can’t remedy the way a child skips
into the hands of it
into the hands of it
into the hands of one who creeps
in the shadow of it
in the shadow of it
in the shadow of what we cannot say
saying the dark of it
saying the dark of it
saying the dark of it cannot remedy it
you cannot remedy it
you cannot remedy it
she is gone
Yes, the skipping ... I can't get it out of my head either. I think that her killer was incested by her father, but that hardly helps. Thanks for the poem; it does help, a little.
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