Poems from bloodude
Oh! The glory of letting go
I've thrown the silk rags into open sky
Stained of blood with fabric like a lamb
Drifted into another's grasp...
A mockingbird calls on every tree
The cry of its kin and brothers
While the lone owl weeps in vain
Swallowed by them,
he shudders
My little sister loved eggs.
Every time we went over to Aunt Mary’s house,
With her coops of cocks and chickens,
She had to see some...