I have returned to take Aunt Vicki to the place she will likely die.
Home where I spread thin my youth has become bitter with death.
I don’t know how my brother can live here.
Home where I spread thin my youth has become bitter with death.
I don’t know how my brother can live here.
The old woman comes quiet as a saint.
The day wears on, we begin to stretch taut nerves.
She decides it is time to go home –
there is too much light coming through the window.
The day wears on, we begin to stretch taut nerves.
She decides it is time to go home –
there is too much light coming through the window.
The nurse pulls the curtain around Vicki’s bed,
finally it is dark enough, she is safe from a ravenous sun.
When the doctor comes in she suggests sleep would be best
perhaps a pill will help the patient rest through the night.
finally it is dark enough, she is safe from a ravenous sun.
When the doctor comes in she suggests sleep would be best
perhaps a pill will help the patient rest through the night.
Under a shattered sky
we live between thin layers of light and dark
asleep and awake, beginning and end.
An empty halo drifts above my ghost of a skull.
Time is a tree and all our lives breaking branches.
Is there pathetic fallacy in this poem?
Wondering what that is? Go over the imaginary garden with real toads to find out.
Hey, thanks for you kind words on my blog. I noticed you quoted Buk, just like the cool kids. On a slightly more serious note think your "Breaking Branches" is quite good. I especially like the last two stanzas, and the lines,
ReplyDelete"Under a shattered sky
we live between thin layers of light and dark
asleep and awake, beginning and end."