Half woman, half horse –
Horse half missing –
They’re cruel, always.
Skinny legs like skewers
Yet they mock her –
Centaur – relentless and
Sickening – her perfection
Causes this flower
To wilt and rot –
A weed remaining
Too quiet
Uncomfortable
This is friendship?
I don’t count these
Friends in the count
Of true feelings
What are they
Saying when I’m
Not here
Here I am
Here I must remain
Love or leave or mock quietly
While we hum in a chorus
Of self- selected ignorance.
1 comment:
Can we mock eachother quietly well making poetry counting each other among friends?
-Dianers
I miss you.
Your poems are lovely.
This is the first time I am reading them.
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