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Oct 2016
Go to sleep, my love.
This ambulance is not for us.

Although, I suppose it could be,
following dark impulses.

Its sirens screaming of hell,
tearing pell-mell in a night

not tinged by blood –
no crime committed for want or violence,

only help arrived too late
to save us. It would go silent then,

as we have been silenced,
locked in a terrible tableau.

You, still, curled around my heart,
me having found for us oblivion.
I poem I wrote four years ago dealing with postpartum depression. Don't worry, nothing became of it.
Erin Suurkoivu
Written by
Erin Suurkoivu  F/Canada
(F/Canada)   
3.1k
   Keith Edward Baucum and ---
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