Lord, Have Mercy
by Debi Swim
Delicate bones under dried leaf skin
fingers clasped loosely in her lap
tributaries of green in ropy veins
and her thumbs go round and round.
She sits and stares into the past…
a burning house, she upstairs
a jump into the banked up snow.
She sees it all again.
I know she’s thinking of two small graves
and she whispers “Lord, have mercy.”
And her thumbs go round and round.
Debi Swim writes primarily to prompts. She is a wife, mother, grandmother and persistent WV poet. Blog: https://georgeplaceblog.wordpress.com/