Chalk...Pink...
Chalk and Still
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 3rd, 2006
The sidewalk is cracked, my toe scrapes the surface, and the pink words remain etched by child's
Hand, they scream at me in sorrow "go away I hate you" and I sit, alone wiping the blood from my
Big toe, now searching in my shorts pocket for my green chalk to reply "I don't care I hate you too"
The clouds change contour, from golden blue to black and grey, the summer storm brews, and it is
Late for writing, and will take five long minutes to make it back home, the smell of hamburger and
Mashed potato curls my stomach into pretzel sized knots (again), and could it be I am older than
Nine, that my eyes are wiser, and see the contrast of life and death here
In a sidewalk cracked before my birth, yet catching me today, Monday
Isolating, focused, and yet without response, a clock is banging the time
Out, and five solid chimes remind me I am late, and will be beaten with
Mommy Dearest's hunk of wood, my shapely legs--long and formed as if to dance on stage plunge
Wildly from a walk--a fast run, a moment a young race horse skips beside me, nuzzling my ear
Urging me onward to beat the finish line, pelting drops slip down my shoulders (tan), and my
Cotton shirt does not protect me from the wet discomfort, steam rises from the sidewalk and
Crossing the finish line I am not in first place, my friend disappears, and there she is wild eyes daring
Me to tell her a tall tale again, her watered down drink tells me she is not yet drunk, and awaits me
First to pleasure herself on one last beating, her orgasm comes in rage
The smell of her sweat festers within my young spirit like a sword cutting
Deep, deeper, and deepest into a heart so battered it cannot bleed but
Yet my tears are gone, stifled at age three, when the last scream begged
"Mommy I love you don't hurt me" and she beat me harder, swung with more force, and I lay on
The floor unconscious in a pool of pale urine, bruised black and blue, with arrogant red welts
No salvation, no fear, NOTHING filled me, and I was lifted to the right hand of God the Father
Purified, cleansed and returned to the door stoop, she had left me for dead in the dumpster miles
Down the road, and her sagging face, and myopic hazel eyes stared in fear at the dead came to life
(Me), and bloodied hair knotted I stood without a cause saying "Mommy I'm tired might I go to bed?"
The sun is an orb of light, calmly I walk wearing stylish tennis shoes, legs firm, tanned, and the dinner
Hour begs me to eat, but I walk some more, anticipating a mile of travel, repeating the path in a circle
Then a shower, fresh clothes, and a bite to eat; pasta and sauce perhaps with grated Romano cheese
Sprinkled lightly with salt and pepper, fresh French bread ripped from the tip of the loaf, drowning in
Sweet butter, a cold Coca Cola with lots of ice, a straw in pastel pink floating generously amidst the
Crystal of the glass, the air conditioner buzzing softly, cooling the air, allowing my eyes to open
Seeing you there beside my bed, you are hard and burnished with toil
Muscles ripple in sensual pleasure as if standing there in the moon light
Will entice me closer to your hardness, your expression of love's embrace
Marriage is not my symbol, the runaway bride I am, will be, today wear that
Necklace with beauty and grace, pearls gleam gently on my skin, for blessings of God cover me in
Tender sheets of love, there is no angel today her wings removed, the fantasy of the horror story is
Past, and the ripple of suggestion allows you to kiss me tenderly on the lips begging for more than I
Will give you, urging me to succumb to your need for release, you are but one of thousands I have
Allowed to enter the first doorway, non feeling I cannot love you in return, the clock struck five and
This nine year old girl was late, the day was Monday, and the night resulted in the ending of life
Mother fell down that night, the broken glass shattered her arm, and Daddy
Snuck in to find her beating my still form unconscious again, he picked her up
Threw her through the screen door, and the storm door precariously fell back
The dirty glass shattered, and her arm spit blood like a fruitful geyser
He might kill her (my first thought) and never the rage entered him as it did then, the pent up fear
Escaped me finally, a sigh pursed my young pink lips, and the ambulance came lights flashing in
Yellow, circling about, the men made a tourniquet, and rolled her fat body out of the kitchen and
Quiet filled me, that night my clean starched sheets did not embrace her pedaphilia, alone I was
Allowed to sleep, and in the morning my cheeks rosy red, the dark circles under my biggest blue eyes
Went from black to a lighter grey, the shadow behind me knew a place I would not go, thank God, yes...
There is a small park, here in the desert terrain of West Texas
The first time you were sentenced we went there, a week married
You climbed an odd tree, sunglasses on, and assumed a pose, the
Camera captured your hidden feeling, and it has not left me, the
Remembrance is like oil and vinegar, tart to my tongue
Yet foreign to my heart, leave me alone, today I like it that way..
Go now, end this place...
Chalk and Still
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 3rd, 2006
The sidewalk is cracked, my toe scrapes the surface, and the pink words remain etched by child's
Hand, they scream at me in sorrow "go away I hate you" and I sit, alone wiping the blood from my
Big toe, now searching in my shorts pocket for my green chalk to reply "I don't care I hate you too"
The clouds change contour, from golden blue to black and grey, the summer storm brews, and it is
Late for writing, and will take five long minutes to make it back home, the smell of hamburger and
Mashed potato curls my stomach into pretzel sized knots (again), and could it be I am older than
Nine, that my eyes are wiser, and see the contrast of life and death here
In a sidewalk cracked before my birth, yet catching me today, Monday
Isolating, focused, and yet without response, a clock is banging the time
Out, and five solid chimes remind me I am late, and will be beaten with
Mommy Dearest's hunk of wood, my shapely legs--long and formed as if to dance on stage plunge
Wildly from a walk--a fast run, a moment a young race horse skips beside me, nuzzling my ear
Urging me onward to beat the finish line, pelting drops slip down my shoulders (tan), and my
Cotton shirt does not protect me from the wet discomfort, steam rises from the sidewalk and
Crossing the finish line I am not in first place, my friend disappears, and there she is wild eyes daring
Me to tell her a tall tale again, her watered down drink tells me she is not yet drunk, and awaits me
First to pleasure herself on one last beating, her orgasm comes in rage
The smell of her sweat festers within my young spirit like a sword cutting
Deep, deeper, and deepest into a heart so battered it cannot bleed but
Yet my tears are gone, stifled at age three, when the last scream begged
"Mommy I love you don't hurt me" and she beat me harder, swung with more force, and I lay on
The floor unconscious in a pool of pale urine, bruised black and blue, with arrogant red welts
No salvation, no fear, NOTHING filled me, and I was lifted to the right hand of God the Father
Purified, cleansed and returned to the door stoop, she had left me for dead in the dumpster miles
Down the road, and her sagging face, and myopic hazel eyes stared in fear at the dead came to life
(Me), and bloodied hair knotted I stood without a cause saying "Mommy I'm tired might I go to bed?"
The sun is an orb of light, calmly I walk wearing stylish tennis shoes, legs firm, tanned, and the dinner
Hour begs me to eat, but I walk some more, anticipating a mile of travel, repeating the path in a circle
Then a shower, fresh clothes, and a bite to eat; pasta and sauce perhaps with grated Romano cheese
Sprinkled lightly with salt and pepper, fresh French bread ripped from the tip of the loaf, drowning in
Sweet butter, a cold Coca Cola with lots of ice, a straw in pastel pink floating generously amidst the
Crystal of the glass, the air conditioner buzzing softly, cooling the air, allowing my eyes to open
Seeing you there beside my bed, you are hard and burnished with toil
Muscles ripple in sensual pleasure as if standing there in the moon light
Will entice me closer to your hardness, your expression of love's embrace
Marriage is not my symbol, the runaway bride I am, will be, today wear that
Necklace with beauty and grace, pearls gleam gently on my skin, for blessings of God cover me in
Tender sheets of love, there is no angel today her wings removed, the fantasy of the horror story is
Past, and the ripple of suggestion allows you to kiss me tenderly on the lips begging for more than I
Will give you, urging me to succumb to your need for release, you are but one of thousands I have
Allowed to enter the first doorway, non feeling I cannot love you in return, the clock struck five and
This nine year old girl was late, the day was Monday, and the night resulted in the ending of life
Mother fell down that night, the broken glass shattered her arm, and Daddy
Snuck in to find her beating my still form unconscious again, he picked her up
Threw her through the screen door, and the storm door precariously fell back
The dirty glass shattered, and her arm spit blood like a fruitful geyser
He might kill her (my first thought) and never the rage entered him as it did then, the pent up fear
Escaped me finally, a sigh pursed my young pink lips, and the ambulance came lights flashing in
Yellow, circling about, the men made a tourniquet, and rolled her fat body out of the kitchen and
Quiet filled me, that night my clean starched sheets did not embrace her pedaphilia, alone I was
Allowed to sleep, and in the morning my cheeks rosy red, the dark circles under my biggest blue eyes
Went from black to a lighter grey, the shadow behind me knew a place I would not go, thank God, yes...
There is a small park, here in the desert terrain of West Texas
The first time you were sentenced we went there, a week married
You climbed an odd tree, sunglasses on, and assumed a pose, the
Camera captured your hidden feeling, and it has not left me, the
Remembrance is like oil and vinegar, tart to my tongue
Yet foreign to my heart, leave me alone, today I like it that way..
Go now, end this place...
Chalk and Still
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 3rd, 2006
The sidewalk is cracked, my toe scrapes the surface, and the pink words
remain etched by child's
Hand, they scream at me in sorrow "go away I
hate
you" and I sit, alone wiping the blood from my
Big toe, now
searching in my
shorts pocket for my green chalk to reply "I don't care I
hate you too"
The
clouds change contour, from golden blue to black and
grey, the summer storm
brews, and it is
Late for writing, and will take
five long minutes to make
it back home, the smell of hamburger and
Mashed potato curls my stomach into
pretzel sized knots (again), and
could it be I am older than
Nine, that my
eyes are wiser, and see the
contrast of life and death here
In a sidewalk
cracked before my birth,
yet catching me today, Monday
Isolating, focused,
and yet without
response, a clock is banging the time
Out and five solid
chimes remind
me I am late, and will be beaten with
Mommy Dearest's hunk of
wood, my
shapely legs--long and formed as if to dance on stage plunge
Wildly
from
a walk to a fast run, for a moment a young race horse skips beside me,
nuzzling my ear
Urging me onward to beat the finish line, pelting drops
slip
down my tanned shoulders, and my
Cotton shirt does not protect me
from the
wet discomfort, now steam rises from the sidewalk and
Crossing
the finish
line I am not in first place, my friend disappears, and there she
is wild eyes
daring
Me to tell her a tall tale again, her watered down
drink tells me she
is not yet drunk, and awaits me
First to pleasure
herself on one last
beating, her orgasm comes in rage
The smell of her
sweat festers within my
young spirit like a sword cutting
Deep, deeper,
and deepest into a heart so
battered it cannot bleed but
Yef my tears
are gone, stifled at age three,
when the last scream begged
"Mommy I
love you don't hurt me" and she beat me
harder, swung with more force, and I
lay on
The floor unconscious in a pool
of pale urine, bruised black and
blue, with arrogant red welts
No salvation,
no fear, NOTHING filled me,
and I was lifted to the right hand of God the Father
Purified, cleansed and
returned to the door stoop, she had left me for dead
in the dumpster miles
Down the road, and her sagging face, and myopic hazel
eyes stared in
fear at the dead came to life
(Me), and bloodied hair knotted
I stood
without a cause saying "Mommy I'm tired might I go to bed?"
The
sun
is an orb of light, calmly I walk wearing stylish tennis shoes, legs firm,
tanned, and the dinner
Hour begs me to eat, but I walk some more,
anticipating a mile of travel, repeating the path in a circle
Then a
shower,
fresh clothes, and a bite to eat; pasta and sauce perhaps with
grated Romano
cheese
Sprinkled lightly with salt and pepper, fresh
French bread ripped
from the tip of the loaf, drowning in
Sweet butter,
a cold Coca Cola with
lots of ice, a straw in pastel pink floating
generously amidst the
Crystal
of the glass, the air conditioner buzzing
softly, cooling the air, allowing my
eyes to open
Seeing you there
beside my bed, you are hard and burnished with
toil
Muscles ripple in
sensual pleasure as if standing there in the moon
light
Will entice me
closer to your hardness, your expression of love's
embrace
Marriage is
not my symbol, the runaway bride I am, will be, today
wear that
Necklace
with beauty and grace, pearls gleam gently on my skin,
for blessings of God
cover me in
Tender sheets of love, there is no angel
today her wings
removed, the fantasy of the horror story is
Past, and the
ripple of
suggestion allows you to kiss me tenderly on the lips begging for more
than
I
Will give you, urging me to succumb to your need for release, you are
but one of thousands I have
Allowed to enter the first doorway, non
feeling
I cannot love you in return, the clock struck five and
This nine
year old
girl was late, the day was Monday, and the night resulted in the
ending of life
Mother fell down that night, the broken glass shattered her
arm, and Daddy
Snuck in to find her beating my still form unconscious again,
he picked her
up
Threw her through the screen door, and the storm door
precariously fell
bak
The dirty glass shattered, and her arm spit blood
like a fruitful geyser
He might kill her (my first thought) and never the
rage entered him as it
die then, the pent up fear
Escaped me finally, a
sigh pursed my young pink
lips, and the ambulance came lights flashing in
Yellow, circling about, the
men made a tourniquet, and rolled her fat
body out of the kitchen and
Quiet
filled me, that night my clean
starched sheets did not embrace her pedaphilia,
alone I was
Allowed to
sleep, and in the morning my cheeks rosy red, the
dark circles under my
biggest blue eyes
Went from black to a lighter grey,
the shadow behind
me knew a place I would not go, thank God, yes...
There is a small park,
here in the desert terrain of West Texas
The
first time you were
sentenced we went there, a week married
You climbed an
odd tree,
sunglasses on, and assumed a pose, the
Camera captured your hidden
feeling, and it has not left me, the
Remembrance is like oil and
vinegar,
tart to my tongue
Yet foreign to my heart, leave me alone,
today I like it
that way..
Go now, end this
place...
