**I usually don’t preface my poetry, however this piece has some disturbing content. This is not autobiographical...who knows from where these things arise... (Is that an adequate warning? )
and a pool of piss
is all that will ever
be left of this.
“Give us some whiskey.
Give us a kiss.”
Two detectives came storming
came storming without any warning
and took Uncle Peter away.
In a room without any windows
and an ominous mural sized mirror
they questioned poor Lucinda, dear,
beyond the break of day.
She could not remember anything
(not that she wanted to say)
except the smell of his breath
when he pinned her to
her grandmother’s floral duvet.
He growled his words when he said them
then licked at Lucinda’s young lips.
She turned her head and she kicked him
as cops came crashing in.
The lady cop jostled Jell-O in
to the room with only one door.
She said she thought Lucinda looked thin
and she could always go get more.
Uncle Peter brought her Jell-O
a ridiculous thank you treat.
With gusto, he force fed her,
if she ever refused to eat.
Lucinda lay the Jell-O down and hiked her denim skirt high
she squatted over the Jell-O dish, and let her urine fly.
Thank you to One Single Impression for the prompt.