Grieving the thing that's still here

10.2.13

Screaming all night at the tormentor.
In the morning, white calcium appears,
the buck velvet eaten away.
You are just a body.

In the street, rocks fall.
Cascade of sound like the river
after the hurricane.
I lived on that river.  You
are just a body.

Without a finger, though,
you held me down.  Without
a finger, you instructed me
in violence.
Now I reach to strike,
my hand slides through you
like water. 
Screaming turns
to gagging.

It is not like the snake
shedding its skin.
The velvet was the living
part.

It's fall.
I still need everything.