An Eighth of a Lemon
An Eighth of a Lemon
For Martha in the early years
life was recess, nothing more.
She knelt on asphalt,
quartered oranges for kittens
who never lost stringed mittens,
whose London Bridges
never fell down.
For Martha now,
life’s Parkview Manor
where a woman in white,
three times a day, bleeds
an eighth of a lemon into her tea.
Donal Mahoney
Copyright © Donal Mahoney | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment