Thelia Hart Died This Week

Thelia Hart
died this week

the ear piece
   deaf
the blonde wig
   suffering

the paranoia
to her parents
the shriveled body
   of emaciated faces
the
struggle to chew at Mexican Towne

i should have known
   what
she
   couldn't
swallow

the frail life

the cancer at 4
   the normality of 4
the chemo
treat
meants
   the surgeries
the near-deaths

the
age five suffering

    the family
hoping

thelia hart died this week

age six suffered
   seven years
then 8
for years at 8
    at home
   without walking
without wishes

age 9 suffering
sleep
   before
bed
    in the morn
before noon
and after

the phone calls to my parents
'Ken. Do you wanna get married?'

age 10
   and 11
then 12 and 13 -
at least people die at death camps!
Wars
end!
    prisoners released
ten years max
    with
   maggots

age 14
in her room
   her
arguments

age 15 worse
    then 16
when it should have ended

age 17

and 18

the drive downtown
the parking meter
the elevator
a
way
up

the wait
   the tiger on the wall
   of inspiration

the blonde wig in the mirror

the button pushed
the buzz of the speaker the
   knock
hoping she doesn't hear
    hoping i can leave
the
stench of her dark apartment
   of two weeks kitty litter

age 19 and 20.

What of 21 and 22 to 29 and

shit, that
apartment!
    dusty
crampness
    snooping over downtown
Life down
town
she couldn't
   take
   without her

the
talks of nothing
'can you get a job?'

'i lose my way,' she crackling. 'can't remember where i'm going. have short term memory loss.'

'volunteer?'

'no.'

that voice
high and whiny,
cancerous.
a cancerous voice straining
what little
    was
leaving her

may as well have been the wig talking.

she was a wig talking

31, 32 and 33
asking
   the couch
with
nothing
to
talk about
but
   her parents
falsely accusing
smiling as though a princess
saying
'Ken. Do you wanna get married?'

the fatigue
   complained about
the complaints
   she complained
about
the
   living
in
a fireplace
   the flames
licking
the cunt
she'd never use
like her sisters
married
and full of men and child

   the lazy couch
the cat

the stunning silence

the
loneliness

the lightning
   loneliness

the endless storm of loneliness in that
helpless
apartment
alone on that couch watching
the clouds
crawling
behind her

the insufferable
   unending
intolerable
how-could-God-do-such-a-thing!

even hell
would
be heaven!

a pitch fork in her back and a cane across her face!
and three men raping her would be better!

an edge of a knife to her elbow - she would pray for this!
for this would be touch
at least!
someone to touch!

those cold fuckin' hands
that white pasty cancer
that cold
fuckin' cancer
   up to the skin
in the tendons
and muscle
the cancer near
   always listening
always
stirring the pot
phone calling
complainin'
on
end

the
rides in my car
avoiding her at church

thelia hart
died this week

the
cancer
   thank god
that Demonic
Dictator
the
Emperor of Anguish
passed its final
law
on poor Thelia
Hart this week

The
lia died this week
thank god
Thelia
Hart died this week

Ken Lori has written and self-published a couple of mediocre books. He is a social worker from Canada who resides in Portland, Oregon.

Email: Ken Lori