Pomegranite Sundays

 

The morders

And mooders

The loud owls toot

She is dying to take the valium

And dad is like a snake lying in his bed

Hissing like a kettle

Who has the mettle?, he once said

He asks them to train the zoo

We she the he's and for

they

The mother, who has taken the pomegranite

seed in her mouth

And is gone for the winter season 

Into Hades, Underground

But she has gone and it has taken too long

She is not coming back

The pomegranite shells and skin

lie bear, discarded on the spring grass

That grows up around it

But she , she is nowhere to be seen

No she is not coming

The seasons come, the summers

And her mother Dementia waits in toe

In step and rhyme

In the foot prints of a life

Upon time's shore

That are pressed

Then a wave washes over them

And they are no more

Like so many memories of this earth 

She has lost, 

She is left with the memories

Of the holy ghost

And walks through springs flowers

And meadows that boast

While she walks through April showers

With her mother's ghost