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Quokka Sun Bear
A truck growls outside for twenty before
Sleeping through the night.
A garage opens its mouth wide,
Creaking and crying as a sun bear
In quokkas clothing enters through
A suctioned door too weak to keep
A father away.
“Daddy, Daddy!” a baby cries,
And he starts to ask “Hello,
How have you been?” but before
He can finish the quokka cover
Crumbles and the sun bear cannot hide.
“Daddy, Daddy..” the baby cries again,
This time the brute speaks “Where
Is your mother?” A toddler, stiff
And silent, enters the scene.
Toys strewn about a floor, decorating
The rough stones, the cold glass, the musty carpet
Begin to float as they're held by me
The ghost child: silent, invisible,
A flickering candle by the sun bears face as
He yelled. A mother appears, silent, cautious
And he yells. The mother, my mother
She yells back and he leaves the houses mouth
And the truck wakes up, the sun bear gone ‘til the moon would rise
Again.
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I wrote this thinking about my childhood. I find it hard to find positive memories of my childhood, especially my earlier childhood.