Hutch of Were
2023-04-05

***

Wind advisory
this evening,
tearing through the trees.
Blizzard comes to reave
the branches, depositing
them at my bedroom window
like a bird's offering.

Long the hours grow.
Snow-hued fingertips
from nails too short to pierce skin
under pressure, digging in,
will soon be overtaken
by claws the hue of what would flow
if my nails were any length grown.
If your eyes are nebulas,
then earthly suns are in my scleras,
red giants sliced through the middle to get to the core.
Miracle the sheets haven't been torn
to shreds yet, so many curved blades
that could readily eviscerate
but lie relaxed, tail curled around my legs.
Rib cage aches
right above both sides of my waist.
When the ribbons fully overtake,
two more limbs will be there to support my weight.

"Your daughter is a polymorph
with two known alternate forms.
There is no cure and not yet a treatment.
The state
mandates
she either accept indefinite time sedate
or the highest security of imprisonment.
I'm sorry. I know
you wanted to take her home."

Had to take the check from the IRS
I'd rather have spent on things more frivolous
and wire sensors near my room for security
somehow without my parents knowing.
Knock on my door after early warning,
shifted back before doorknob
is gazed on.
I've never had to pay attention
to mindfulness, but now dampened
emotions will save me from a prison.

Suffer from the State, or hide
in the confines
of your room all the time,
or be put in a coma for the rest of your life.

Damn fate
is the same.

Close my eyes and let the ribbons overtake.
Roll off the bed, stand before moonlit mirror.
There's a monster on the other side. And I want to know her.

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
