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TITLE: It's OK-She Isn't Real By Roberta Franklin 11/17/10 |
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She fell into the night
pierced through and torn
limb
from limb
Shorn of mortal life
So short it was all she knew
of flesh and bone
No breath
Alone--the pulsing beating heart
The other
swaddled liquid dark
smooth walls of flesh
rejected, flushed away.
She walks now
with her aborted heart
Bereft
Denied
But accepted
By the womanhood of choice
Whose politics are haunted
By the soul without a voice.
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