Thursday, 8 July 2010

Medea poem

It matters whether furious Medea was
sane or screwy
mad or cold,

It matters -- though it doesn't matter
to her bairns,
who are dead

either way. But it matters whether the
glint in her
grey-blue eye

like the star of sunlight in rippled water
is a come-on
or a back off.

whether her soul's heart pulses with life, or is dead
heaving with
maggots only.