Atropos
Shears, indifferent where the fibers led,
She wielded innocent of dread,
Cutting what her sisters fed.
Slicing each fragile thread,
Thickened puddles spread,
steaming and red,
As he bled,
In bed.
Dead.
Rhymed Nonet
Copyright © Michael Higginbotham | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment