Casualty | October 4, 2014

Cradling the broken body of her child
her face silvered by salty rivulets
falling as pearls onto the young, silken skin
sinking into the neatly crocheted fawn blanket

and all the years and moments of care,
the feeding and the needing and the worry,
the funny times, the sunny times now glare
through empty eyes that will not have to hurry

homeward for the comfort of a bedtime
wonder at the brightness of the moon
all nights now painted with this crime
all days eclipsed by fixed leaden umbra


Posted in Reviews

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