The Mooncalf
I find you once again in old photographs~
a devil's grin that stabbed my heart to passion~
mother called you mad and father said riffraff,
but I gave myself to you without ration,
unaware your love would become a mooncalf,*
fashioning nubile feelings into ashen
heaps of gruesome and decaying lumps of gray
until even the photographs fade away.
*a term that can refer to any monstrous or grotesque thing.
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.
