Tuesday, November 20, 2012

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!