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The poems
- ordinary poets
- outrage
- love
- family
- thinking too much
- hurting
- hooked
- loss
- respite
- reflections
- the light side
Made by Teresa Marrin
© 2010-2012
mother
She is 13
Sleek, black hair; lipstick red as blood
But not enough to hide
A face like a blossom
Petals in her hair, red dress
Pearls at her throat
Glowing beauty
A flower in her own right
New bride, new to America
Now she is 23
Aged, face like ashes
From a fire long burned out
Old, worn, crazy
No, not crazy – dead
Barren as a leafless tree
Before the first snow
The same child of God
But this child
Has six murdered children
She says “I don’t know why
I don’t know why I killed my kids”
Dressed in red again
Ceremonial red for the occasion
She strangled them
Called 911
And wrapped the cord around her neck
But failed to escape from hell herself
Ironic — the ultimate failure
Of broken desperation
Crazy, guilty, lost in America
A little girl from another land
Ten years and six children later
With nobody to talk to
Fallen through the cracks
God knows why
