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the woman has an axe to grind
by Maria Francescathe woman has an axe to grind -
she hunches o'er the wheel;
as her cold eyes bore into mine
she hones her deadly steel.
she tries a few quick practice swings -
the wind disturbs my nape,
and I can see the way of things -
I ready my escape.
the scope of options isn't wide;
(my head's obsessed with caskets)
to walk out now and starve with pride
or wait to fill her basket?
I look into my killer's eyes
and wonder what she sees -
and will she relish my demise
while sipping antifreeze?
and does she love?
and does she hope?
and would she rather use a rope?
the deed is done -
the pink slip's signed;
the woman has an axe to grind.
06/08/2008 Posted on 06/08/2008
Copyright © 2024 Maria Francesca
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/08/08 at 04:44 PM whoa - a twist within a twist... disturbing... intentional?? I really like this poem - I can feel the sneaky meanness of the other person. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 06/12/08 at 05:14 AM What a way to tell this story! I have been watching The Tudors and having nightmares about beheadings... you aren't helping, girl. Your poem lays out in its clever, measured, motion the way even a moment's flight from my humanity can cut another to the core. Much more so if the cut is premeditated. Great piece, Francesca. |
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