Wednesday, April 11, 2012

National Poetry Month: two more drafts

#10  Fanny Denlinger Kauffman

My mother’s mother died from
In 1922
Two weeks after she birthed
My uncles
At home.
Delirious, tossing in the bed,
Then dead,
Stiff like marble
When they lifted my
Seven year old mother up
To kiss her goodbye.

Toxic response to infection
Raging from
A bed full of childbirth,
 A barely noticed cut.
Blood gone bad
Coursing poison through the body
Poisoned muscles screaming pain
Poisoned heart slowing down
Worse than arsenic,
Body turned against itself
Still , we can't stop it.

 ( photo from Google Images)


Waiting for the Grosbeak

Grosbeak -  teutonic lumpy word
For gorgeous bird,
But the adjectives redeem
Blue Grosbeak,
Evening Grosbeak,
Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.
Rose-Breast, each day now I wait for you
To meander by my window
On your way north
Before the Beebalm blooms.
I keep my feeder full
Of Sunflower seeds, your favorite,
Hoping I am home
When you appear.

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