A HUNDRED POEMS - VII

Eprobles-poetby E.P.Robles01 Mar 2020

FATHER oh father where were you;
my crib is destroyed by time and clothing
many sizes smaller and scars upon my heart
and soul that lists many writ of loss
too lengthy for me to scribe!

Some memory still exists -– imagery through
thick glass. once believed I be born
but now reside in resolve : you were never
birthed nor lived and me by mother
immaculate conception.

:: 03-14-2014 ::