Catharsis
I stare at the TV news
with the sound off
watch words form
on announcers' lips
cucumbers move me
slicing through raw flesh
sends their scent
down the hall
I emerge from my room
to steal the profits
Mom stabs me with her steely blues
the personal is all that matters
spilling guts is more than metaphor
I grab my abdomen
grown large with grief
Montserrat in the mist
we wander down the wrong path
we retrace our steps
blessed by the accident of rain
beneath a single umbrella
empty drawer is victory
Barbara Ann O'Leary has put down roots in a grove of trees by a lake in Brown County, Indiana. Her poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Aesau, Conspire, The Green Tricycle, KotaPress Poetry Journal and Stirring.
In Posse:
Potentially, might be ...
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