It was spring
the day I galloped
from my mother’s wound.
I was an accident, she said.
but she swaddled me in trinkets anyway.
In the maternity ward,
where she mused over her flaccid belly,
stitched lovingly tight like a football,
she happed to glance out the window
where a strolling couple paused
and embraced on the park’s path.
Hand in hand, the lovers passed.
That was an accident, too.
Caroline Misner's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Accident by Caroline Misner )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- Talking Turkeys!, Benjamin Zephaniah
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Heather Burns
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)