disguised as plums or cherries,
spooned sparingly down throats
that could not utter Dad.
Mother boiled water,
set the timer.
Checked for hissing seals.
Nothing leaked.
© T. Clear
Originally appeared in Manzanita Quarterly.
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Thank you.
ReplyDeleteGood poem. Sad, but good. I like how the sparseness and tightness of the poem matches the subject.
ReplyDeleteVery powerful, very.
ReplyDeletehurts.
ReplyDeleteYour Tuesday offerings are such a treat, T.
ReplyDeleteJanis, thanks for stopping by!
ReplyDeleteWillow, you are too kind. Thank-you.
gulp...and ouch.
ReplyDeletegulp...and ouch.
ReplyDeleteA compact tour de force, beguilingly lethal in its magnificent brevity.
ReplyDeleteOuch, indeed!
John
wow. straight to the heart.
ReplyDeleteImpressive, the amount of control exerted over each line. No word wasted (no pun intended).
ReplyDeleteNow I have to go drink water. There's a huge lump in my throat after reading this.