On a cool spring evening
saw cocooned young girl
skipping skipping skipping
while her mother's blood
was dripping dripping dripping.
Not mashed musky stench
stencil-plating failure foetus
plastering out psyche or aborted spleen.
But razored edge
editing adult life.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem