the last sin   pale ashen sky a bleary eye clouds of recurring screams... i am a zoo   an octopus leviathan tentacles into an ocean of unformed emotions... syphilis and love     syphilitic pall stifles the clear blue i contort...   shell and pearl   amidst highs and lows in life's ocean flows a shell peony-mouthed...   i am an unmarried mother     fed on stings of barbed milk morality my child-plankton...   the lovers   cell upon cell bridge of their union hung on the pillars... rebirth   ogre of age and time cavil at a warm picture... the young today   innocence thaws at the altar of ambition...		Butterfingers She had become fragile and monk-like A brooding intensity in pain Preparing for the passing Rites of passage or her final daily battles Cancer nibbled at her innards But couldn’t break her spirit At night she was drugged to sleep A child to her daughter, a mother to her son She was there now, someplace else now One such evening he held her hand Rubbing softly, caressing her Body and soul, her flawless skin She gently touched his fingers He felt a tremble, heard a murmur “Butterfingers”, she said A mother to her son  3 November 2008   Poetry Home