Trisha Lee: Difference between revisions
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==Biography== | ==Biography== | ||
A writer and poet. Also a foster child like [[Joey Getchie|Joey]]. | A writer and poet. Also a foster child like [[Joey Getchie|Joey]]. | ||
In ''[[Property of the State]]'', she wrote a poem for Joey which helped him realize she was being sexually abused by her foster father. The poem is written in the form of a [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sestina sestina]. | |||
<poem style="border: 2px solid #dedede; background-color: #efefef; padding: 1em; width:40%; min-width: 280px;"> | |||
''Untitled'' | |||
Mother distracts herself with poetry: Haikus about wind | |||
Whispering and scurrying Through autumn’s last leaves. | |||
I wait, but all she’s got for me | |||
Are quoted lines about the contradictions of ice | |||
And murmurs: “A girl can always use new clothes.” | |||
I ask her to stop— | |||
I ask him to stop— | |||
But my voice flies like leaves on the wind. | |||
He channels Mother with breezy promises of new clothes. | |||
I don’t respond—I’m the girl in every leaf— | |||
His waxy hands creep like spiders, their need as sharp as ice. | |||
Eyes closed, I compose poems to myself. | |||
A haiku wind blows, a litter of leaves lifts me | |||
I ask it to stop— | |||
My body slaps against a windowpane of ice | |||
Raw, naked, and unwound. | |||
“After,” he breathes, as I tremble like a leaf | |||
“I’ll take you out for new clothes.” | |||
My heart ticks, a broken clock wrapped in new clothes | |||
A sound too loud to come from inside me | |||
“Just think of after—” he breathes, and I tremble like a leaf. | |||
— as if it will ever stop — | |||
A trick, a trap, his voice is a pleading wind | |||
Falling through caverns of jaundice-coated ice. | |||
He announces himself with clinking ice, | |||
Consoles himself with a gift: for once it’s not clothes. | |||
I compose a failed haiku about wax and wind | |||
And how, if only for a moment, I want to own myself. | |||
I cannot breathe until until everything stops | |||
I cannot leave— | |||
I fall like autumn’s last leaves | |||
My voice shatters like ice | |||
“He’ll never stop—” | |||
I gather the coins, the needless clothing | |||
Shards of glass littered around me | |||
My voice is swallowed by the wind … | |||
In life, at least for me, | |||
Events are like a frayed cloth. | |||
They continue to unwind. | |||
</poem> | |||
==Appearances== | ==Appearances== | ||
* [[Property of the State]], novel | * [[Property of the State]], novel |
Revision as of 14:43, 14 July 2018
Trisha Lee is a character in the The Myth of Joey Getchie series.
Biography
A writer and poet. Also a foster child like Joey.
In Property of the State, she wrote a poem for Joey which helped him realize she was being sexually abused by her foster father. The poem is written in the form of a sestina.
Untitled
Mother distracts herself with poetry: Haikus about wind
Whispering and scurrying Through autumn’s last leaves.
I wait, but all she’s got for me
Are quoted lines about the contradictions of ice
And murmurs: “A girl can always use new clothes.”
I ask her to stop—
I ask him to stop—
But my voice flies like leaves on the wind.
He channels Mother with breezy promises of new clothes.
I don’t respond—I’m the girl in every leaf—
His waxy hands creep like spiders, their need as sharp as ice.
Eyes closed, I compose poems to myself.
A haiku wind blows, a litter of leaves lifts me
I ask it to stop—
My body slaps against a windowpane of ice
Raw, naked, and unwound.
“After,” he breathes, as I tremble like a leaf
“I’ll take you out for new clothes.”
My heart ticks, a broken clock wrapped in new clothes
A sound too loud to come from inside me
“Just think of after—” he breathes, and I tremble like a leaf.
— as if it will ever stop —
A trick, a trap, his voice is a pleading wind
Falling through caverns of jaundice-coated ice.
He announces himself with clinking ice,
Consoles himself with a gift: for once it’s not clothes.
I compose a failed haiku about wax and wind
And how, if only for a moment, I want to own myself.
I cannot breathe until until everything stops
I cannot leave—
I fall like autumn’s last leaves
My voice shatters like ice
“He’ll never stop—”
I gather the coins, the needless clothing
Shards of glass littered around me
My voice is swallowed by the wind …
In life, at least for me,
Events are like a frayed cloth.
They continue to unwind.
Appearances
- Property of the State, novel