Drown Beneath the Tree

This big world keeps right on spinning

No time have I for grinning

The bottles keep on dropping

No sign have I of stopping

From the self-same grave that made me

Returned there I did, with favors

They have hands and so do I

And death, I met him between my thighs

I am the daughter of a forgotten father

Whose son hangs on a tree no longer

And I, well I'm the whore that hung him

Drown then did I beneath that very limb

And laid we there with poplars bare

For I never learned to swim

Linking up again with dVerse Poet's Pub Open Link Night. Publish your own poem on your blog and join us. I'll be dropping by later tonight. Hope to see you there!