Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Poem #24 of 365: The Little Death

Cold coffee spills
on my lap,
waking up
my unborn children
from their nap,
who'll never see
the light of day
or Life beyond
a hungry throat,
clinging onto
the back
of a pierced tongue
waiting for
a second swallow,
a third
and fourth
where gastric acids
will disintegrate them
and life will continue
for everyone
but me.

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