violets and violence

as a child, i knew a girl named violet
twisting my hair into long, ribboned tresses
and chase me wild until i tripped over my dresses
lock me in the tower as we played princesses

hiding behind each corner of the dollhouse
she sought me out with a vicious arouse
i played pretend i was trapped in a brothers grimm tale
as violet played games of tug of war with my pigtails

violet wasn’t the kind of girl you had play dates with
but the kind you pinky-promised to keep secret
her beckon led to games i could never quit
and though the rules weren’t hers to bend
if i played along, she’d still have a friend

so when the violent men locked the doors
to the pay-per-hour and the motel 6
violet locked her soft gaze with mine
those bambi eyes and their grieving transfix

and when the very vibrations of his drawl
rose until just their ripple of a decibel
could throw me up against the wall
violet’s voice would belt out in lullabies

if they couldn’t drown out his merciless call
she held me close in her arms and sighed
it’s just a game, don’t run, don’t you crawl

that sweet violet was my very first friend,
or perhaps the ‘t’ was really an ‘n-c-e’ at the end
but when you are seven and in need of a hug
you will convince yourself this violence is love

and when the word ‘violence’ escapes onto this soft page
the unashed hush with images of cinematic blows
picturing flames that carry no warmth in their glows
and though scorsese will warn you of bloody noses
i recommend checking under the petals
of violets and roses.

in polka dots of pink and purple
adorning your babygirl’s frame
and the temper tantrums of his ferocity
that she became

in the comfort of classrooms for which she will depend
while the other children rejoice for the weekend
the fear in her eyes her teachers cannot see
and the fingers crossed behind her back in plea

i haven’t heard from violet
in a long, long time
i meet her sometimes during scary dreams
or when i jolt at the sound of a baby’s screams
i write her letters i will never send
for violence, too, is my friend.