some will be swallowed
by their mothers.
some will outlive their daughters.
far across the waves,
the cry of the gulls,
the red sun,
as if in a dream,
rises to fill an empty sky.
nightmares.
i am being haunted.
ho hum, here come
the crushing ghosts.
the spirit knows
what the body refuses
to know.
the ghosts come in,
heaving their milk-white skin,
i said, heaving their milk-white skin.
Lisa Zaran
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/where-s-your-tambourine-now-sleeping-bear/
