That Unbroken Month

  

Cloud underbellies
were fecund with final daylight
throughout the unbroken months
of night-wet winter.

 

She'd stood mesmerized
in December dusk grasses,
feeling the infant kick

and her flesh pleat.

May blossom;
the bramble thickets
that clawed the shed,
and hands reached
into her womb to extract him.

 

And all that day he'd warmed against her,
glossy in the Spring's untrodden grass.
His eyes staring to the treetops
that greened and thickened
in the vivid sun.

 

 

Now,
the fern leaves cast sharp shadows
on soiled ground. She stares
beyond the turbulent river to where the bell tolls
as he enters the slaughter.

Reviews

[Joiedevivre]

I just love your poems. They are thought provoking and enjoyable. You have a way with words, they always yield to you. A sad topic which you have made beautiful.

[MAC]

okay don't laugh or get angry at me but my first take is deer season. anyway that is how i first related to it. your poems have a streetness to them with a major influx of intelligence. very original and much respected and like by me, now if only i were somebody all this might mean somethin ~L~

[Ed Hart]

yes fodder, but sometimes heroic

[Emily B]

oh, is this the end of the other story? the vivid sun was so friendly and inviting that I didn't know until the bell tolled and the turbulent river that there was anything at all amiss . . . such a sharp knife