let her come

let her come

the one who crawls

emaciated

into the celebration

gaunt, severe reflection

enslaved in yesterday’s rags

she wears

her weeping, wooden gaze

unable to conceive

the creation of her womb

art disregarded

she prostitutes her intellect

anguishing

that she will never earn

an invitation

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: very early healing pieces « Emmaatlast’s Weblog

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M.C. Reardon

photographer~painter~poet

Emmaatlast's Weblog

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