revisions

when we had it out,
the other night,
I reminded you
of how you used to
whip me
with that
cat o' nine tails
when I was a boy

it was a rusty brown color

I will never forget it

and I learned much later
that you had inherited it
from my beloved
grandmother,
your mother;

and that changed
my memory of her:

devastating;

and you denied it,
you looked me
right in the eye,
with your blind ones,
and lied about it

until I reminded you,
that one day,
when you came at me
with it in your hand,
I had grown bigger
than you,
and I snatched it away,
and ripped it into
useless little pieces

so no more revisions.

October 11, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.