poet Sheena Blackhall

Sheena Blackhall

Internal Bruising

I sit at the mirror and stare
An elderly woman stares back
I see behind what's there

The skin is pale and cracked
Beneath the skull, Thought's black
For Hope has been ransacked

The ribs contain a heart
Kicked out of touch by grief
It beats, though pulled apart

Outwards, there are no scars
Inside blood seeps and seeps
Memory's jugged and jarred
The tell-tale eye still weeps

Topic(s) of this poem: mourning

Poem Submitted: Monday, June 11, 2018

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