Premature Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Premature
She was born prematurely
frail as the chrysalis
of a butterfly
her breathing
a delicate scraping
of wings
where darkness of life
wriggled within her
close to warm breasts,
perpetual suns.
When they approached
the incubator
she seemed
always to be trying
unsuccessfully to grasp tightly
some inchoate awareness:
some animated shiny
toy of darkness.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: human condition
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5/9/2024 10:29:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
