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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

10 May, 2005

Syringe baby.

She sits there
on the pavement
outside the door…

Her lonely perch
day after day
humming lost
tunes with
empty eyes
and a full womb
a syringe
by her side

And
I wonder…..

What games are played in the
hormone hungry
name of damp love
a chaotic fevered addiction
wounding love
as wombs are
torn apart
desecrated
and discarded…

And
the world
goes by
dropping a coin
for her
lonesome tune

As
she weeps
fondling her
syringe baby
by the road…

She sits there
on the pavement
outside the door…

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2 Comments:

Blogger annie said...

I like the tenor of this poem, and the esp the lines
'humming lost
tunes with
empty eyes
and a full womb...'
and also this bit - 'the world goes by...'
but I don't quite understand the phrase 'syringe baby'. I mean, why is it a 'syringe' baby... born of addiction? Would be nice if you sorted that little phrase out.

11 May, 2005 18:32  
Blogger Pincushion said...

Thank you for your kind words!

Yes indeed! It IS about babies born out of addiction..AND..the syringe itself is a baby too..almost..for the addicted.

13 May, 2005 15:06  

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