Sunday, August 26, 2018
7&7. by Michael A. Griffith
love-child of Dementia,
courts the highs; can't stand those lows,
but they last, oh, they linger.
Wallows, pines; prays and bargains.
Remove her deep-stained chalice,
wash clean her very spirit,
change who she is, “fix” her soul,
listen to her confessions—
still she'll find no peaceful rest.
Dreaming stigmata visions,
fire and death, tides and screams.
Wakes, calls out for Mama who
once understood her nature.
Michael A. Griffith began writing poetry as he recovered from a disability-causing injury. His poems, essays, and articles have appeared in many print and online publications and anthologies. He resides and teaches near Princeton, NJ. His first poetry chapbook is slated to appear later this year from The Blue Nib. Drink of choice: Tanqueray and tonic with lime.
Every knock I here I think it’s you left your over night bag on the floor half zipped open like you were here the bed is a lonely place...