* Morning Mist *

The morning mist is famous to the musing gaze of the wondering soul,
Whiteness hooves across the fields,
Single minded, 
Taking away the breath
Of the leaving train.

We disappointed her,
Letting her through to that stillness.
Her skin bright as a lampshade.
She is famous
To us,
While loneliness is famous to
A poem.

After Naomi Shihab Nye “Famous”
And Sylvia Plath “Sheep in Fog” and “Lady Lazarus”

* Re: Cut *

How unfortunate –
a detached fetus,
yet an unborn,
fragmented with still lukewarm

Blood,
A lump like a lemon,
lifelessly quite,
That greyish red tissue.

Flat placenta,
A cake marinated with cold jelly,
Your warm affection
Ichor injects

No more into the heart.
I hold (on to) it,
Clutch our unborn
of rosy future.

A grief, that is.
Alone in the room
A dead silence
Sing with the drifted weep.

Where is the mother?
O my
Love, “I am ill.”
I’ve been prescribed a pill to bury

The thick
Tenacious feeling.
Tristesse,
do(es)n’t leave me.

The stain on your
Glove merciless
Remark
Misty and mistaken and when

The pulse
Agitate your heart
Change your dark
Room of wound

How you depart –
Resilient victim,
Dream girl,
Mother without birth.

*Recomposed from Cut by Sylvia Plath