by Debi Swim
grief did not ask if it could come.
nor beg my leave. nor was civil
in any respect of civility…barged
in, she did and changed my life
again. Beside the thin ghostly
lines marked in rows over my heart
she, with surgeon’s precision, scalpel’s
keenness cut the wound with one swift
straight slice removed another part
of my heart, daubed the blood, and sewed
with the finest measure and skilled hand
the daintiest seam that would in time
leave the faintest trace of white. But, I
disappear one small piece at a time
leave behind the rasp of withering husk.
Note: Written in response to Red Wolf Poems, Prompt 250.
Debi Swim is a wife, mother, grandmother and happy WV poet.
Poets Parlor – https://fmeoformyeyesonly.wordpress.com/