Guilty
I don’t come very often anymore
to the edge of this rancid waste dump
to pick at the scars
and bleed anew . . .
To stand and welcome it all
in its abscessed pustule
as plump as summer milkweed
ready to be lanced.
I hold the images in my heart
and await the rolling thunder
to bring blessed relief
with loosed blood and infection.
My penance.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
