Ida And The Crow Poem by Kathy Greethurst
Ida And The Crow
After Ted Hughes
Stone-eyed,
skirt high, she sits
on a tattered cane chair.
In one hand,
a tarnished mirror,
the glass tilted from her face,
in the other,
a faded powder puff,
clogged from filling her frowns.
She points her finger upwards,
waits for an explanation.
Crow laughs -
‘Your own fault, ' he says
‘too many parties,
too much gin.'
Thursday, February 18, 2021
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5/5/2024 8:56:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
