END OF THE WORLD
Many here
crowded in collapsed rooms.
Mind cells.
My hair stringy and wet for the moment
before sighing.
Too many times.
I am too young to feel this old.
My name hidden between my eyes.
The young men gone.
That one loved me.
That one didn't.
All became soldiers.
Digging graves underneath buckled sidewalks.
An old man keeps me warm.
That is all he can do. I don't want anymore....
Many here
crowded in collapsed rooms.
Mind cells.
My hair stringy and wet for the moment
before sighing.
Too many times.
I am too young to feel this old.
My name hidden between my eyes.
The young men gone.
That one loved me.
That one didn't.
All became soldiers.
Digging graves underneath buckled sidewalks.
An old man keeps me warm.
That is all he can do. I don't want anymore....
(Published in "Aphelion" March 2011)
Anita
McQueen runs the streets at night, feeling the wind against
her face, and long shadows on her back.
Her poetry has appeared in A Handful Of Stones, Amaranthine Muses, Aphelion, blackdahlia, The Camel Saloon, Catapult To Mars, Deuce Coupe, Downer Magazine, Indigo Rising Magazine, Ink Sweat & Tears, The Literary Burlesque, Mad Swirl, MediaVirus Magazine, ppigpenn, Pond Ripples, The Rainbow Rose, Raven Images, The Scarlet Sound, The Second Hump, Subliminal Interiors, Visceral Uterus, and Yes, Poetry.
Her poetry has appeared in A Handful Of Stones, Amaranthine Muses, Aphelion, blackdahlia, The Camel Saloon, Catapult To Mars, Deuce Coupe, Downer Magazine, Indigo Rising Magazine, Ink Sweat & Tears, The Literary Burlesque, Mad Swirl, MediaVirus Magazine, ppigpenn, Pond Ripples, The Rainbow Rose, Raven Images, The Scarlet Sound, The Second Hump, Subliminal Interiors, Visceral Uterus, and Yes, Poetry.
No comments:
Post a Comment