Knocked
out
sickly,
light, facile
duties, as pride swelled.
Praise me, Mother, from your stark urn.
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Blog: Stillfugue Topics:Fiction, Poetry, Essays
stillfugue 
#1 by Kay Camden on May 30, 2011 - 1:25 am
This is… a good thing?
#2 by Carl on May 30, 2011 - 7:37 am
The poem isn’t.
It is good to knock out the chores, right? There is an unfair dig at how my mom used to deal with the choirs – Perhaps more, an unfair dig at how much I allowed that to mess me up. Thanks for your comment.