Kristen de Kline #133 Dark days behind

The dark days are behind us
we've climbed off rooftops
train-tracks, light fittings
pulled the spike out of the vein
muted the laughter that grew   too   loud.

My son says he can't do homework
the study is littered with manila folders:
first AVO against H.K.
grand theft auto against K.D.
bogus charges
police AVO against H.K.
threats to kill, breaches of AVOs
more breaches ...
..  your legal shit   is everywhere   he says,
I can't fuckin' move.

It takes me nine months
to get the Briefs of Evidence off the carpet
scan pages, forward them to Legal Aid.
By the time I do this, my son,
has dropped out of school
discovered Alice in Chains and Pink Floyd
I love the cloud bursts, dams breaking open
many years
too soon
but the crazy laughter,
it freaks him out.
We bond over the black hole sun -
another suicide - and
Jack Daniel's.
We agree that nobody beats the Velvets & Nico.
Nobody.

It takes me nine months
to climb down from the rooftop,
up from the train-tracks,
mute the laughter   not
look back.

I used to ring them every few days.
The first two times I can't talk.
I mention an undisclosed location
feeling guilty
wanting to die
instant coffee
missing home
missing
him.

They told me to choose an alias
so I don't have to repeat my story.
I opt for Christiane F,
the Berlin drug scene, a 70s movie that only
the lawless and degenerates would know.
The DV crisis team have no idea who Christiane F is.
I like it
that   way.

It's taken a year or so
the splatterings of blue
have burst into colour.
The lawless ones have offered roach jars, poems,
safe houses, plastic cups filled with Black and Gold sav blanc,
texts: don't be a stranger...

I write  poems about not giving a fuck
just not caring
anymore.
I lie.

It's taken a year or so.
Bursts of colour drown out
the dark days
laughter
rushing blood
folders on the floor.
I'm speeding off my tits.
The odometer makes it to 120 K's.
I'm feeling on top of the world.
I'm not
looking
back.