On The Day

Oh young, on the day she turns
over a new leaf, sun-damaged
veins, shrivelled death

six-feet to go, to sleep,
to walk in to
her dreams, flat-lined
sex, drawn out of virgin

strawberry fields in
fast decay, on the day
she turns, sixteen
nights after the drunken man
is fast asleep

on the edge,
on metal terror
pumping through her

this is the one,
the hidden light,
night fury flies past her eyes

everything is tight
blood crushes blood, through
life-less young eye lids
she cries, he’s too fast,

a shrivelled raisin on black top
oh young, that night, and what it means,
the night takes, the air

open, stealing her lungs on the day
she turns.

7 thoughts on “On The Day

  1. I really like your poetry. You have a beautiful way with words. The only criticism I have is that although I get the gist, I think, the meaning is not clear to me. Poetry is a communication and the primary duty of communication, I think, is to be understood. But that’s just my view.

  2. Hi Maggie, I’m delighted to discover your work. I also write because I ‘must’, but I have only recently come out of the writing closet. I relate to the darkness and I love this poem. I especially love this line:

    “strawberry fields in
    fast decay”

    Looking forward to reading more of your work 🙂

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