Display of Desolation
Perched on the carpet: A bird on a branch.
Too young to fathom her father’s condition.
She barely remembers her mother before
she died. Her three older sisters bond in
isolation. They have grown akin to it.
Expressionless doll in her grasp. Her
playtime item. They share the same stoic
glance. Confined to this vast space.
the dust slowly settles on every
piece of furniture
dark shadows serve as
fetters that restrain them. She wakes
up every morning and hopes
her father doesn’t scream.
She forces her tears to stain
her pillowcase adores the shape it creates.
She was never taught how to pray. She knows
her father wants to protect them,
why must he be so obsessive. So irrational.
She pities him for not knowing better
The Japanese vases, with complex
and intricate designs appearing as
a muddled messes, arch over her menacingly
She is Powerless.
The pattern has lost it’s
complexity over time The massive shadows
lost their darkness; it becomes her new
expectation. As she sits in the living room,
she sees he has arrived.
She used to be nervous at times like this.
She has learned it makes no difference.
Her father doesn’t want to lose them
like they lost her. Confinement
and Force guarantee safety.
an absence of threats. It is worth it
in her father’s eyes.
-Inspired by The Daughters of Edward Boit by John Singer Sargent (1882)
William Bauman is a first-year student in the College of Communications at Boston University. He has always been passionate about writing, but he has never submitted any of his work until now. William has a huge interest in literature and music.