December 26, 2017

Poetry: “Basket”

It was always more than never to me.
Each day breeds a dirth
Of responsibility.
My womb feels emptier:
Heavier than full;
Slinging baskets of bunting,
Habits dyed-in-the-wool.

She woke me up kicking,
Arrested from restless sleep;
But to walk between walls,
I need more than two feet.


© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.

The Gift of Reproduction © Sourcebooks | Colored by Jane Bled