C. I. Meade Poems

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1.
Calvary

You were young and they were singing you to sleep,
Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby
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2.
Epitaph

You die for the first time but certainly not the last time when your mother burns, taking it all.
So you, the righteous man, grow up crooked, abyssal and tall.
You grow up with a cage around you in the shape of your brother, a gun, and a father who is more like some half-absent god who never heard you pray.
With that you feel yourself becoming smaller every day.
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