Margaret

I.)
Her creamy flesh bathes under the moon’s joyful glow,
It pours into every atom of her being a drop of hope
for the unborn babe
No thing nor one will predate her lovely curves
And when the eastern sky gives birth,
A new day will look upon the lily.

XXI

Poetry. I have something to say.
It’s important. I
promise.
Oh. Never mind.
It’s really only important to me.
Sometimes.
When I’m sitting by myself
In my room
It hits me
Like I’m under a rain of steel and ice.
So cold and careless.
It hits me.
No
One
Cares.
I don’t care about them
They don’t care at all.

XXII

The untenable spaces of time
During which the atrocities of the world
Pass by our turned head
Upon tender feet
Through the forests of repeated history
And finally these quiet armies arrive
To the clearing
Where, final judgment made,
Peace is restored.

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