what if
one’s heart is still,
hanging like a breath waiting to be taken…

she searches for her husband in concrete cracked
with ill intent
hades has windows, if no exit

mourning belches

shards of night
fling sleep like blood into
the dawning light

written by

judith cockman

copyright ©judithcockman2006/2011

my lips have gotten larger
my eyes smaller …
memory re-weaving my face

The wisdom I have achieved with middle age smacks of hypocrisy
The little pearls I have strung along my necklace of experience
proving to be mere costume…