Hard Labor Poem by Chen-ou Liu
Hard Labor
A Haibun
Sunlight slants through the window in bars of gold, collecting in a pool around my feet. Shrouded in her own darkness, my muse moans and screams. At her side, I keep yelling, 'Push baby, push...' The final few words have clung to the walls of her womb for hours.
last remnants
of afternoon light...
half-finished poem
Friday, May 26, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: labor,muse,writing
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4/16/2024 3:47:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
