Lock jaw

Her too young jaw locks 

And she becomes her father

In this tic, to clench and wrestle

Her heavy breathing seems

Reminiscent of the little girl 
Not letting go

Of her bottle

For one second

Chance to make it without…

She gags at the mention

Of breakfast

Quite suddenly,

She says she is repulsed

And it may be

Because it reminds her

Of those café's and

Scattered mornings 
Here and there 
With her distant father.

He makes her stomach churn 
She says, she thinks she never needs
Breakfast again

It wasn't me, it wasn't 
Him, it was the way it started
To get tough
To hold on
To promises 
That are hard to swallow.

She learned about nourishment,
and its ultimate
End.

Nurture does not provide enough

For closed lips. Empty rooms, 
Empty calories, empty pockets 
Never kept us alive.
She is learning that it is more 
Fruitful to say, than for 
Him to hear.
Standing here and listening
Through the cracks,
I see narrow bands of light seeping out.

Forgiveness will be the only key

That opens her too young lockjaw
Allowing the Light its fitting
Liberty. 



Painting by Albert Edelfelt, 'At the door' 1901 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.