cold mother

she sits alone in the turgid
darkness, her swollen breasts
full as a gourd, empty as
sin; missing his boneless

gums. she weeps, but no tears
come; she is dry as tumble-weed. her
belly opens like a venus fly-trap to
capture one of those wrinkled little

bodies, but there is no going
back. the darkness has taken
him.
the mirror throws back a cowering

dwarf, leering and grim. her face peeks
timidly from behind his
hump. she can think of
nothing to say. only, like Anne Boleyn,

she offers him a coin; and her
belated forgiveness.


I perhaps should point out that the woman in this poem has aborted her child; she has not had a miscarriage.


Comments

  • Lyndy
    Lyndyabout 3 years ago

    Oh My Goodness! powerful stuff, I felt as if I were watching a Stephen King movie whilst reading this. Power to you L:))XXX

  • Glad you liked it, Lyndy.x xxx

    – darkvampire

  • TheWanderingBoo
    TheWanderingBooabout 3 years ago

    powerful and emotive write

  • Thanks a lot, WB.

    – darkvampire

  • MisssStephaniee
    MisssStephanieeabout 3 years ago

    Dark and powerful x

  • Many thanks,MS.

    – darkvampire

  • t-brunetto-2
    t-brunetto-2about 3 years ago

    wooooh

  • Glad you liked it, t-brunetto.

    – darkvampire

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