Saturn's Child, a poem by January Gill O'Neil
When my father snores he sucks in the whole world and releases it in one pure breath. At night I�d come into his room where he would pass out on the bed� too drunk to change his clothes or put out his cigarette, which had burnt itself down to the embers. I pulled off his shoes and watched him sleep, smelling his sweet, stale breath fill the room in waves. He was so out of it I could put my finger into his mouth and pull it out before he inhaled. Once I let my finger linger a second too long and his tongue touched the flat of my tip. I thought of going in deeper, first a hand, then an arm; the tender cutlet of my body swallowed whole by my father. But I was barely enough to make him cough. He rolled over on his side, leaving a well in the space where his body had been. I crawled back into my own bed, as my father slept the peaceful sleep of ogres, feeling the house shake with his rhythmic tremors. January's blog: January Gill O'Neil's blog Amazon page: January Gill O'Nei...