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