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The Lonely Heart Calls
by Charlie Morgan
...through frothy lips, wet with blood
a woman whimpers--the noise muffled
by the fold of her elbow.
...groaning with the weight of a thousand
unfilled dreams, she lumbers to bed
finding respite from hurt.
...the weary mother-wife-daughter-neice-friend
has kept the pain, the hurt like
Grannies keep bronzed shoes.
...using the mirror for admonishment,
a service she freely gives to herself
ordered so by him as he walks out the door.
...all her Hopes take flight for fear of the burden
she's taken gladly by accepting
the love of a husband-son-nephew-monster.
09/01/2004 Posted on 09/01/2004
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 09/27/04 at 04:53 PM Yikes. This hurts to read, for so many reasons. The fact that it cuts through to the bone so smoothly so that you hardly notice the slice until the blood has soaked through the fabric is what makes it so brilliant. |
| Posted by Alisa Js on 05/10/07 at 06:37 PM this one is powerfully poignant.. thank for sharing.. aloha |
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