comfort for creatures with sharp teeth

That girl says,

vehemently,

"I can do it." 

The child cartwheels 

on the front lawn. 

There is a forgetting

that started long ago. 

A door at the top of a long staircase

is never opened. 

And everything is purple. 

She wants to be held too. That small creature with long limbs 

and a broken heart. 

She cries in bathtubs

and runs up stairs. 

She is her own night terror...

a beast in the clothes 

that her grandmother picked for her 

to wear. 

Roll up the sleeves

to drown out

the sound

of the 

wild

wild

ocean.

The child, the girl, the woman. 

She will never be one, screams the beast. 

There is no peace here, 

she bellows.

Yet,

when the woman presses soft leaves 

of blue lotus to her cheeks,

the beast finally cries.