Vines wind in a ladder to the sky,
Clinging to the temple trunk.
Deep in her bough, Claire pays homage,
Revering the kind silence of a full moon
Hanging so large in the sky
None could dare mock it.
Light falls on her arms, illuminating
Lines as pale as the night’s light,
Connecting and crossing like constellations
Marking the way to despair.
Feet resting on the trembling branch
Fingertips that out into every shade of black
Beyond the sky, she pretends to snuff
Out each star with her thumb
Until nothing remains.
She’s happier this way.
Beneath the gloom of a blotted heaven,
Ignoring the lash of father’s cruel tongue and
The sting of her mother’s palm is far
Easier. Claire is the only light left,
An angel gazing down upon the earth,
Until she allows herself to fall.