Post-Op
Revision
Post-Op
Beneath where her breasts once were she feels snow.
She bites her tongue before the whispers fall out.
There are mornings when the day drops down on her.
A morning when peace is beyond her hand.
If she opened the window the wild daisies, wisteria,
The rhododendrons she planted would be strong,
The rich soil under the roots, dark as a night's peace.
Nothing can stay buried in that paradise.
She falls back on the bed, the tangled blanket.
Her hand rests on the valley across her chest.
Post-Op
Beneath where her breasts once were she feels snow.
She bites her tongue before the whispers fall out.
There are mornings when the day drops down on her.
A morning when peace is beyond her hand.
If she opened the window the wild daisies, wisteria,
The rhododendrons she planted would be bright.
The rich soil under the roots, dark as a night's peace.
All is sunny and fair through her closed window.
She falls back on the bed, the tangled blanket.
Her hand rests on the valley across her chest.
***I have no idea if this works. I'm posting it so I will stop toying with it. I hope it is good, of course, but I genuinely have no idea.
Last edited by John Riley; 10-25-2024 at 09:11 PM.
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