© Apr 2, 2016. All Rights Reserved.
Mimic the silent, kenspeckle twin
In revolving doors,
Smiling, ensorcelled by the habiliment of an eidolon.
Not Debra. Daunted by eidolons, she runs unto the elevator,
As a stalwart Daisy in the lounge asks, “How have thou been?”
The caliginous elevator ceases on nine floors.
Darn. She ruined her outfit. Moron!
Her right sleeve ripped from the door. Grrr!
Debra. Debra.
Quotha, thine sister’s waiting.
… Waiting in Baghdad, Iraq, lo.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Only one thing alike.
They like to like at first sight.
Debra was born a different race,
Racing for the resemblance of Daisy,
But her unjust friends ridiculed her off her old bike.
Her own lifelike grin haunts her through the night,
As if it molested her birthplace.
One thing’s for sure. She’s not crazy.
A childhood’s lorn, yet anon found.
A womanhood beloved for rejectamenta.
Debra’s partaking in nightmares of a soul asunder.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Behind Debra, a lad has long, black rat-tail hair,
Blue swim trunks, and a white towel.
He whips her upon her derrière.
Imprints form under her blue miniskirt,
Covered with flowers. She gasps for air.
He ogles down her bosoms of style,
Athwart from a grabby portrait of Lamia above a chair.
An engagement ring’s on her necklace. He’s a flirt.
Alas, he osculates at the air. “Pervert,” she screams.
After slapping him athwart the cheeks as if a sweven,
He covers his bruise from the plight of rejection.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Panicking, Debra runs unto her hotel room, alive.
She locks the door shut and flicks upon the light switch.
The living room’s ignored.
She’s in her bedroom staring out the window,
Long enough to see a camera in a beehive.
In her black hijab, she can feel an itch.
She thinks, “Daisy and her chum can’t be on one accord.”
The insufferable summertime turns unto snow.
An invisible finger taps on the vent.
Debra darts her head to the closet.
Slowly, the closet door shuts when she turns around.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Startling her, the living room lights flicker on and off.
Debra glances out the window.
The beehive is an affable, little lass’s purse.
What awaits her is an impenetrable language.
The door opens as Debra holds a bloody, lorn cough.
As Debra weeps, Daisy teasingly walks slow.
The window shatters anent as the night gets worse.
Her sister knocks and knocks, but there’s no privilege.
Daisy. Daisy. Thee sister uses a handkerchief.
Debra faints while Daisy weeps seizing a knife,
Before slitting her own throat unto her demise.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Her father steps on the black and white, tessellated floor, appalled.
He stands over a deceased Daisy as if she’s asleep,
But hears Debra coughing in her bedroom.
A nit flies between her lips.
He opens the door seeing her prognathous jaw. He stalled.
There’s flashbacks of framing Debra like a creep,
With narcotics upon two occasions of doom.
Ruing a day after a day, his heart skips.
An old video tape plays in his mind from a T.V..
It’s Debra in her bedroom whispering in her sleep.
There’s thumping sounds; she’s awakened by rattling darbies.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
I dress for formal occasions
And recite speeches in the mirror,
Like a perfectionist.
Bliss was longed.
My father (the sheriff) has two wives and no sons.
He abhorred us sisters. It’s a blur,
Compared unto his abusive wives being pissed.
I heard it all; I was wronged.
For hours, he was pummeled and yelled at,
For engaging in sophistry and denying septentrional love.
Yet, Debra lacks knowledge of her biological mother.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Dear Nadir,
Don’t just leave me here.
Behold! Debra’s rising,
But there’s a pain mayhap attacking the sheriff.
He’s having a heart attack,
And his daughter’s face is numb.
Unto the ground, he sees a smirking offspring.
His body trembles, then turns stiff.
There’s shallow breaths. … She stomps his eyes black.
Blood leaks from the ceiling landing upon her right thumb.
Isaiah Lawrence 