The Poverty of Motherhood

      Raised from the proveless dust
      Like a shrouded bird into the sight
      And set tumbling with the rest,
      I daily give wet suck to one
5     That is a barbing brat
      Tangled in my skirts;
      I'll not bother to raise him right
      Lost in the indifferent dust
      Under sky as bruised as that
10    Tumultuous spot that got him;
      But I daily give him suck
      Because he's the nearer dirt.

 

From the collection "Burning Byzantium"

Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]

More information available on gregglory.com.