Mother Scorpion

November 18, 2007 § 2 Comments

she can’t afford to play politics


hmm … who can afford to play

politics i say to that man

behind my back…

that’s why we are not



nobody understands…

quite yet

makes sense later…

how much longer

will she wait, the man says

it’s been about two years

he continues…

hmm … i am sorry for her,

this used woman

that year

holds a rope

with a noose…

money falling

out of her pockets

for the contest

of her lover

she goes behind…

the bleachers and starts

to march up the stairs

in the middle

of four

other platforms

with four other woman

who are waiting

on the diving boards

the dirt of loving death

…because i was there

in her shoes when there was

only one woman,

loving the game player

who she has gone back

to what will be known

as heartache seven

written in the sand…

i am writing in his black

book, the damage

he is causing…

i have left New York

and it has brought



to this higher plane

of existence

where my skin

is shedding

from the sun…

i can finally see…

the reality of the situation

below the mark on the breast

from the bite of the fifth

girl stepping up

to the platform…

has faded

across from me

in this private place

is another past love

who rose as well….

much further away

we are from him

who we love

no longer…

we’ve grown

in our senses…

to make our circle


the man who made

US scream…

is vanishing

so, i will stay here

and never go back

or look back

to the moment

i had parted the room

women in waves

were swept away

by one smile…


just one look

and he knew

i was the one

and the one

he did not


on leaving

in the dust

of his very own

hanging by these five

women in the hour


my old skin is raining

on him…

i am glowing

as all he can say

is “he says, she says”

what is this crap?

the she is a brain…

C.R. tells me my vision

or others do not matter


a final God Bless

sad to let this happen


© Sonya Rose

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§ 2 Responses to Mother Scorpion

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