Sunday, April 6, 2008

late

once upon a butterfly,
a heart rose like the steam
of an engine. she let out a cry
for her lost lover in a dream
with the long locks of hair.
she drown in a lake
of sorrow riding on a mare.
she knew she was late,
but the results of the test
were inconclusive. could she create
another human in this world, already a mess.
the pills she knew would solve it, sedate
her and the child inside, her scheme
worked as she lay dead in the bed made of wicker.


this was a poefusion prompt it's a "Bout-rime" you can find the words here. this was a tough one, as all the words had to end the lines.

5 comments:

Michelle Johnson said...

Leigh, this was a sad, tragic poem. But, well written and something of the truth. Some women today just don't think they can handle the responsibility of raising a child. But, if they tried, I wonder what would come of their lives then. At least both would have the opportunity to grow and learn together. Nicely done. Have a nice day.

christine said...

How sad. Interesting use of "late."
You tell a tale of sorrow in just a few lines.

paisley said...

very dark and delicious...

writerwoman said...

Wow, so sad! It is filled to the brim with emotion and leaves me shivering.

lissa said...

like Michelle, I also think it's tragic but you use the bout-time words so well, they fit so perfectly