I lived in one of the tenements,
so loud and confused, the neighborhood
stretched out, scared, skinny,
squinting payback when I creaked open the door.
I just sit in the back now
and we never talk much of today.
I discovered the dark outside,
its hands covering another lie
when I closed my eyes.
I chase all its changing,
kicked in the gut, blood on my chin.
How could I go back?
I closed myself from me.
The feeling of eyes leaning against the inner door,
it’s my way now. A one-way street. Alone
I didn’t feel anything.
This is a first attempt at an Erasure Poem, as prompted by my friend Anna Montgomery over at dVerse Poets Pub. It has been concocted from snippets of my own (somewhat gritty) short story, But Don’t Touch.