Why did she choose to leave her love,
that lump in throat, brim full brine tears,
because, outhouse, the tree might stump,
in larynx frogs are known to croak
and sure not crab, despite mine dust?
That errand skirt, the neighbour fool,
whose messages fell untoward,
herself no better than she ought,
such teaching voice fell out of sorts,
so why buy testimony served –
that growth small gift for warning sign?
The thrashing seen before it came,
that girl next door knew roof would stream,
a corrugated channel drain –
she told the slut, blame lay, her door.
And her kids would leap the wall,
scatter rubbish, evidence;
why would she have to raise the fence,
that once stood tall, before goat came,
now nestled, fallen, her plot plants?
The end came soon, a bitter strain,
that tumour, tremor, tension signed.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church with Parkinson’s Disease, has had some 300+ pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, most recently The Parliament Literary Magazine, Ariel Chart International Literary Journal, Poetry Potion, Grand Little Things, The Poet Magazine. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/