|
One Through Forty Six
by Allison SmithOne, two
Swallow
Paired tablets
Mixed cocktail
I hope they make me sleep first, I hope I don’t get sick
I hope when Mum finds me
She’ll notice the pretty flower in my hair
I didn’t get that photo from the wedding for you
I’m sorry
There was no time
But now you have me sleeping with my made up hair
Poor Mum
Doesn’t deserve this.
Thirteen, fourteen
I’m almost out of water
Need to get some more
Such a struggle
To get out of bed
Fix my pajamas
I’m wearing your jumper
You left it here
When you left in the night
Too much pain
Too much pain
Please hold me Nanna
From the other side
Won’t have to work in the morning
No more death at work, no more violence
Yes, everything is getting better
Thirty one, thirty two
Forty five, forty six
I’m holding his pink bear
This precious bear
The only thing I have remaining from him
My dead baby son
It’s his birthday on Monday
I hope to see him soon
Best day of my death
10/01/2010 Posted on 10/01/2010
Copyright © 2024 Allison Smith
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 10/17/10 at 05:21 AM Ah, Allison, this is so poignant. The yearning for reconnection is palpable. And the gentle love a whisper from an angel left behind for the rest of us. I love the grace stretched from line to line and permeating this piece. Thanks, my dear. |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 01/11/11 at 05:26 PM I cried, This really got to me. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/31/20 at 07:33 PM What a poem! Congrats on POTD! |
|
