Lynn Rowe Poems
- Catherine The Eldest of Sylvia's Daughters Lies Still in the...
- Heroin Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey. Yah roll up ...
- Cats Nestled in windows Comatose on the couch Exiled from ...
- In Praise Of Fauna I enjoy the nuance of creatures How ...
- Race Memories By daylight, we reconcile the numbers, or ...
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The Eldest of Sylvia's Daughters
Lies Still in the Earth Below,
On the Edge of a Small Town Graveyard,
Where They Never Even Mow.
They've Buried Mostly Babies Here,
Whose Families Couldn't Pay.
My Mother Softly Tells Me,
As We Clear the Weeds Away.
My Mother Keeps on Speaking
And I Just Mutely Hear
The Same Short Sad Story
She Tells me Every Year.
The Girl Succumbed to Rickets
When She was Two Years Old,
Your Grandma was Heart-broken
And Could Not Be Consoled.
A Disease of Malnutrition,
You Don't Hear Much of Today, ...