Monday, May 08, 2006

a cross the field

/ i see my neighbour jenn
bent over
her 2 young children
play ing in the sand box

ah / eternal position of the woman /
bent over
it's no wonder we grow old with curved spines
broken backs

spent years / bent over children
bent under lovers / /

& i wonder why
my soul begs / break
free from this shell of
life / /


1 comment:

Tara said...


i feel that/ bent
over years

like stalks of dying wheat
left to seed