Those Cracks In Sidewalks Never Leave

BLINDED BY THE SETTING SUN
A collection of four poems
on life, hate, and suffering

between trees
beyond grass
up, on a hill
silent and waiting,
he stalks

at dusk she reaches
the hilltop,
eyes of a stranger
smiles…
no one heard
screams, yells, as he
savagely, grisly beat her…
raped her…

blinded by sunlight,
between trees
knowing, how beautiful
a sunset is…
she, can't recall his face.

Resting on a maple leaf
a robin, sings as it beats
its' breasts…

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved

Below Zero

Curtains moved by
forced air; she
needed angel wings.
Television blasted
through walls: feet,
cold, skin breaking,
stockings
lost; what belonged
had disappeared.

His fingers long and
slender, his eyes
hurt, he walked and
his body jerked.

Cold feet on a
strangers bed
this angel never learned
to fly, she never
belonged, never
moved, and pretending to
fall off to sleep.

He locked doors
tapped keys
a madman. His angel
lay there lifeless.

No way out - no walking
no screaming -
no strength to toss a
chair to break glass
of to fly out a window.

Polite before drugs - he
must have given to play
games.

While the angel slept
she recalled trust, but
knew not everyone was good.

It was something in the
smile that turned him
into stone - a sick mind,
with no place else to go.

Even if her angel wings
had grown – they had no
way to bring her home.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved



They Say You Have Children

They say you have children
not sighted – but blind –
The say you have children
Protected with walls.

And your children are gifted,
but you haven’t the time.
You won’t take a day to be
sighted, not blind.

They have their senses -
transformed it to love
a touch and a feeling, a
an archive of time.

You know you have children
they have taken your name
they are one in a million –
If you just understand…

Their life will be different,
and, you’re freighted to see
how people observe them,
with eyes that are blind.

You know you have children
they were given your name,
using all of their senses,
they learned to survive.

So we have the knowledge.
and you find the time –
Your children will treasure
with you love at their side.

They say you have children,
and gifted not blind…

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved



THE SICK BOY AT THE TABLE

Who - will do anything
for the sick boy
tied to the dinner table?
Last night - he picked
up the chair - tossed
it at a window, crammed
his head close to glass -
squinted and then, laughed.

Who - will talk to the
sick boy tied to
the breakfast table?
Yesterday, he pulled a
knife from a kitchen
drawer - sliced the
curtains into shreds -
struck a match to light
rags. . .

Who - will untie a sick boy
at the lunch table?
His wrists bleed, his hands
are useless, fingers white,
and his feet - blue.

Who - will cover up the
sick boy in white sheets
When he is let loose
on city streets?

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved