Literature
Naming Asthenia
I had to give you a name,
After all you've lived, and what you've become,
Yours no longer suits you.
That perfectly Anglican sound
That a loving mother gave
To ten tiny fingers that grew long and ravenous,
Clear sky eyes now clouded with guilt,
Where you swim in your stormy transgressions...
You grew,
Tall as the trees with twisting skeletal branches,
That my outstretched arms could never reach.
We tried climbing, higher,
In the park, jumping fences at dusk,
But once I reached the top,
I could never come down...
And you are no longer a child,
No pretty fucking suburban child,
You are all the particles of dust
Dancing under t