Victoria Anderson-Throop Poet Rhyme

Publication Rag

PUBLICATION RAG

Papers hadn't held her words
For twenty years or more
But ‘published’ didn’t scare her
words were sizzle branded in her core--
Past the corner soul that hides
The little suffering blueblack fears
The place within the fears
That hides the insubstantial tears

There ragged brands had healed
From raging blood to shiny scars
Blood-- now cold-- congealed
As graceful life was wrenched apart

Thus, publishing and some such
triggered not an ounce of fright
far worse black filthy dreads that
danced ablaze in burnt-out lights

So publish me, Be done with me--
she mused as on she walked--
Better to be done with it--
May end the verbiage stalk.

And though she knew
Would never end
The words that came in streams
Was truly voice of true heart friend
That called her in her dreams
And deep she knew she had no wish
To end her lifelong song--

But not to share a single word 
Seemed selfish--deadly wrong.

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