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Sep 2010
I dug a hole
with a spoon.
Stainless steel twists of
Pain.
The Earth piling into heaps,
like mountains of weight.

I lit the candle,
placed it in Earth.
I began the second hole:
Cradle
for the seed,
the β€˜could-have-been’.

Scribbled some words,
Folded the page-
Muddy, smudged:
Tears
from the jawline,
clutched, into the ground.

Marked the bulbous
round of the spoon-
Tombstone.
Grief drizzled grave,
sized for fit.
Softly closing the wound.
(c) Mel D.Β Β Ltd. 2010
Melanie Kate
Written by
Melanie Kate
1.4k
   Illya Oz and PoetryJournal
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