tiny child
helpless in fogged senses
the moon reflected
in vague eyes
watching my face in the night
redly mouthing milk
coaxed from my breast
from my breast
with its tides
and storm-wreckage,
fires burning sadly
the wastes vast
of repressed silences
tiny child
ubiquitous
pivoting my life around
the compulsive clenching
and unclenching
of your fists,
your screaming desperate cries
changing my blood
to milk
which you tickle out of me.
Author notes
Perhaps loosely remeniscent of Sylvia Plath-
Child
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new
Whose names you meditate ---
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little
Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical
Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.
A contest entry
- Contest- Symbiosis by g r e y i s m.
875 points, ended December 20, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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