The Catbird Stills
I pull at crab grass
through the shimmer of tears
and curse the rain.
Resentful of the fertility of cow shit
and seduction's sloppy song
in overfull gutters, I tug.
Clover bleeds between my fingers,
bow their heads to pray penance
in the crush of my palms,
and in the light of a gibbous moon
the cry of the catbird stills
to the wordless frustration of a poet.
Poetry
Lovely.
ReplyDeleteThis is actually quite painful for me to read. You did, of course, do an excellent job in capturing the moment.
ReplyDeletehi erin. i loved this. the title is great.it conjures up a real image that i would love to capture in a photo. it is veru beautiful albeit very sad. it is easy to feel the pain of it. bless ya. think you may like my last post 'alone'.
ReplyDeletewill read more when i get the chance.
Pod~
ReplyDeletethanks, glad you enjoyed it! I'd love to see your visual interpretation of this...
i would love at some point to try to make a pic of how i see/feel it, and will let you know. thanks for the inspiration. it's the 'i grab at crab grass' that i really like. have a great day! and thanks for your lovely comment
ReplyDelete