Acid Rain
By Gwen Monohan
She raised her gnarled hands
beneath gloomy, fitful clouds
to grasp countless petal flakes
from her apple trees last spring.
Taking generous breaths of bloom and spice
(wishing instead it were wedding rice),
as pale white sprinkles lapsed
and tangled in her hair.
Frail sequins for a
later funeral veil.
Now on the coffin’s
seasoned lid, flurries
of frugal pungent smells
soon dwindle free from
exposure to more caustic rain
to submerge in a vat of earthly depth.
Acid tears drain weary eyes
to hurry this lonely mix
of mourners home, and
her lover out his road to rest.
This is quite the visual. Sad, yet beautiful.
This piece was a liekajcfet that saved me from drowning.
Poignant, beautifully rhymed… reminds me of an elder relative or the Earth?
I agree, very visual. Great poem, Gwen.