After
Where does fear go when it dies—
no, that’s not the right question,
it was never fear who lay
beneath bleached sheets, caged eyes wild,
then not. Now fear’s talons have
nowhere to land. Mother’s safe
in ground. Above, I circle.
7 thoughts on "After"
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Wow!
This is so powerful.
A great mixture of images here, Pauletta. Above, I circle, evoke an unexpected, but powerful shift.
Haunting, intense. “Above, I circle” floored me.
But she doesn’t believe herself to be in the ground, does she?
Mom died in January, Joe.
Looking forward to learning from you and your poems this month. Thanks for the powerful writing.
Fear personified
as bird of prey,
whose place at the grave
the daughter takes.