Sad Song


Emma Rose is usually tired,

too much action, too much blood.


Her husband breaks against the trees:

bones and twigs creak electric songs.


    Shrill venomous weepy nag,

    barbed wire voice, harridan hag.


Emma Rose is usually tired,

too much fire, too much dead.


She looks for him in scrub oak and brush,

where’s the man that makes their tale?


Her skirt unravels in the thickets,

scratched and ripped, she searches.


    Shrill venomous weepy nag,

    barbed wire chops, harridan hag.


You can imagine the lonely girl

she was, the house she kept


before his life stole his wallet,

stole her good, and stole her quiet.


Emma Rose is unusually tired,

not enough firewood, not enough bread.


Life stole her looks. His arms

ever after made stiff strock hugs.


    Shrill venomous weepy nag,

    barbed wire ground, harridan hag.


She found him grounded, limb

on limb, broken branches bracing back,


his one eye blinking tears at her

shrill hope for her life without his


calling, Emma Rose, calling,


weepy, barbed, shrill, harridan. This Rose

wilted keening, would-be savior of the man.

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