unto death

unto death          

the third constant wife retired unto death
her mouthless starvation where once she ate
bog myrtle ripe bilberry heather

short hope, long gone, she'd craved escape
rejecting jollity redundant in derry
without any doubt her doorway out
let her out let her swim out
of this earth pushing down on eyeballs the grit
the anguish denying bright strangulation where once
her fable told lies simultaneously without fear or fret
where once
once
the farmer from derry
caught her in blue absolution

too late
regardless of worth replenishing her with silver
coins on eyelids won't keep out dirt ingrained in his fingers
his touch
his touch
remember slick scales yellow eye
swim further upstream swim swim swim 

now underground waiting for the ferryman fisherman
she tries to lift the rock swim through earth

too late

in derry he farms for the third fourth fifth sixth generation
laughs now she's followed the others
pours his poison fillets his fish and laughs again unto death



Comments

[Catherine Edmunds]

Published in wormwood, earth and honey (Circaidy Gregory Press) and Mad Hatter's Review