The Armonés

A poem.

(1)

Her hair hangs as silver tinsel

draped over orange blooms

that bud from out her chest.

Her nails cling to his tight

vest as slender fingers

pop buttons of ivory

from wire hooks.

A son and daughter

burst thereafter

from the woman's womb.

(2)

The boy of freckled face

unlaces her boudouir

with a quivered lower lip,

and hands as useful

as a horses hooves.

An aging father

soon scowls thereafter

from the shadowed hall.

(3)

He holds her to his leather

jerky skin, though she push

away. A skinny walking cane

jabs her bony hide. He strings

her up as strings upon a violin.

A perfect daughter

cries thereafter

from her piercéd skin.

Author's Note

So... um... here it is. Thanks for reading.