Effréné Marguerites

I have nightmares

That children sprout like wild daisies

Just below the bow of my hip

Only to die

 

Their ghosts mourn and weep in the pools of my collarbones

And rattle like glass beads

Running single file

Down the creases of my palms

 

I breathe them back in like white sugar

And they dissolve into my lungs

 

Tonight they sing like birds

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoy poetry like this poem. Make the reader need and want to know more. You wrote strong statements and left the rest to their imagination. Each set of lines. Stood tall and strong. Type of poetry to lead to story of someone who lived and still hold the nightmares of things that were done. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote