'Glaring empty', by Lisa Mabey
I sit on the edge of your bed
and watch you leak
small drops
of life.
I anticipated doing things for you,
rather than this --
this waiting, hovering,
trying to interpret
what your heart mumbles
between slurred words.
Like a beachcomber, I search
for tiny wave tossed treasures,
then leave for home - empty handed -
and pray for the tide to turn.
Lesley-Anne Evans
03/02/09
Posts
I know there's a story behind this poem...
ReplyDeleteIndeed there is one… if you visit Sometimes Suicidal Mama - link is posted here - and read about my friend Art Suke, you will understand more about what inspired this poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading my blog!
Lesley-Anne