Her poems are like so many naked corpses piled into one mass grave
Buried there in an attempt to cover the stench of her life's work
Her jilted lovers and aborted children reach out from the other side
With dirt in their teeth and their placenta covered little hands and feet
They beckon you to crawl in under the umbilical cords of dangling participles
To experience the emptiness of their delegated authority and soul
To discover why it was they were buried while still alive.....
With so many secrets untold....
2007 © T Sheridan
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lady-al-qaeda/
