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Original art by Eric Huhta

For KK

I know she wasn’t broken born.
Those coal-black warrior eyes
always
pierced my dishonesty.
And now I’ve awoken, weary, worn,
with a truth that’s trumped my lies,

in

all

ways,

she can’t love me.
She drank from a sippy cup
laced with ghosts that I set free.
I fought to lock my poison up
but to open her doors,
she needs her key.
I can’t take it back, you see.
Or let her be.

Do her demons ever sleep?
(the ones I buried inside so deep)
Or is she lost
in nightmare nights?
Forever after,
When the wicked witch took flight?
Wielding broken promises in shards,
bearing lying lips her latch-key guards
to a land where up was down and easy so hard.

It may take years
to stem her tears.
Maybe one day, maybe never.

My eyes swell now cause it’s so clear.
A drunk’s babe is lost forever.
The birthright of every child?
A tender cradle,
in mother’s arms,
safe from harm.

I’d take her place, turn back the years.
Relive it all to wipe clean her fears.
So, God, grant me just one chance to start again
to kiss those sweet lips and ease her pain.

I’ve been a poet since I was five. Then after university, I worked at the Toronto Star as a journalist, editor, and public editor. Happier now, I write poetry.

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