Not a Care in the World
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Why hast thou dsquieted me, to bring me up? ~ 1 Samuel 28:15
A mother doesn’t wait. She dies. She goes
Before, though after father. Both are gone
Before you grasp the crowns they hoped for, rows
Of triumphs. When it comes, your cracking dawn,
Your mother and your father lie in death.
You cannot craft a line or send a text
That they can read. They’ve given up on breath—
And deep-in-coffin lungs cannot be hexed.
Your friends have gone before you, too. They lie
In Limbo, loveless Limbo. If you penned
A sonnet, then . . . so what? More like a sigh
Unuttered, trapped, its end is end — is end.
No. Even those with darkest curly hair
Are dead. They cannot care. They cannot care.
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