As the affection grew, it twisted.
Scissors cutting at the hair she never let
her mother touch. In a cracked pool
beneath the floor boards, she tried
to hang it up in ringlets. She said
I do, whilst he beckoned to her
finger nails, her fingers - her limbs
opening paper envelopes. Deliver us
from sin. Deliver me whole
in part and apart. Deliver us.
When she wrote home in blood
it was to request they send a dowry.
Love you mum; it's nice here.
Though there aren't many windows.
[tag word: STOCKHOLM [syndrome] - Scott Pack @meandmybigmouth]
100 Poem Challenge: writing 100 poems in a weekend to raise money for EEC International.