Poems

Epitaph

Whose dying breaths
are sleeping
in your hazel eyes?
 
What small child's gaze
goes blank at your trigger?
 
For what young girl,
            her heart in your palm,
            legs bloodied, does your heart beat?
 
Mountain man!
What fate will tear the cliffs
from under your feet?
 
What woman will feel her nipples burn
for your black curls in the dust,
what mother for her son?
 
Tell me,
in the depths of whose eyes
will your dying breaths find peace?

2 Comments

1 Christine Irving

: Gorgeous- wish i’d written, this: What woman will feel her nipples burn for your black curls in the dust, what mother for her son?”  You’ve summed up the sensual connection between lovers and son and all the fields of poignancy that lie between them in three lines- amazing.

i ‘m reading your poetry thanks to Maureen Thorson and her blog NaPO Wri MO.  I hope you get a chance to check it out.  I am so grateful to have discovered you!

2 shiva

It’s really beautiful and Touching .she is amazing!

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