Cannibal

Mother’s teeth and talons

RIP skin, pieces of flesh;

torn from my abdomen

bits of this and that

searching for an organ

I’ve hidden far from

her gleeful cannibalism.

Father’s civilized

knife and fork

puncture my surface,

where a lost river

of moments,

undistinguished events,

left above high tide line,

dry and blow away,

to float with clicking,

irrhythmic taps

on severed limbs

each braceleted with buoys

of broken light in odd colors

passing in an endless

holiday season.

this treasure can be found,

even shrouded under a blanket

of sleepless sleep,

its klaxon,

against impending drift,

ringing for eternal routine.