friend times
those not elected
missed seeing the high falcons
midsummer’s measure
their roses in flames
they sang of lost lives and limbs
complete loneliness
other village girls
toiled and giggled every day
behind walls of corn
stalking a mad queen
in the palace of white death
with one hand clapping
no more golden fronds
only Elysian sonnets
in the sky country
still butterfly nights
little poems for children
and paper flowers
. . . . .
poet: susan.powers.bourne
source: women.poets.n.y.
process: augmented cento