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Sentinel Poetry (Online) #44 THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF POETRY & GRAPHICS...since 2002 ISSN 1479-425X Editor: Amatoritsero Ede
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Molara Wood
Suicide Notes
I My lover is dead The will is gone from me This being so may I flow With the river wherever it goes.
II Bola jumped off the bridge and went splat A tragedy sprung from a fourteenth floor flat Where entwined with another a man sat Whose heart to Bola could not be had.
III
Bills, pills on window sills beg you to jump, jump to the hills, to bliss.
A skyscraper this isn't you'd only break a leg not the strong recoil of your heart's spring.
Bag Lady
I Bag lady with sackfuls of regret Rolled in a knapsack, heaved, hauled As the mollusc bears around its home.
She moves as with feelers, unseeing Eyes in rituals of avoidance, noses up Repelled by a sight they would not see.
Woman to whom things have been done Sacrificial wearer of scars, bearer of losses Walking wounded from battles long lost.
II Bag lady with sackfuls of regret Tucked deep in under-eye pouches Stuffed down the protuberant tum.
Beaten to a pulp by life’s fictions Hers is the joy of a wandering haze A happy face on life’s sad street.
She walks, magnificent as Monroe Dark as Alek, regal as Iman - owning Nothing, she claims ownership still.
At peace with her many loads, knowing If you must own nothing, own your regrets
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