Judith


Not far from the slate-grey running road
where the iron horse used to burn,
rots a plywood squatting toad
red as the leaves that turn.

Tree hair lines the dusty crone’s
stomach bronze and copper,
old silk trims the softening bones
of the lonely lady leper.

Blind eyes are patched unseeing white,
her mouldy cap is broken,
stone marrow keeps her mouth shut tight,
her secrets left unspoken.

 

(c) christine DINGLEY 2011

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s