Poetic riffs on horror tales <br />of love igniting that impales <br />then leaves you hanging in the void, <br />a hell you can't kill or avoid. <br /> <br />The wild oats she could have sown <br />Were hers to seize so she could own <br />revenge on rapers of her soul. <br />But she had bought a Golden Bowl. <br /> <br />The crack left love words seeping through; <br />they left a sediment that grew <br />until the salts stuck in her throat; <br />her heart sank in the sinking boat. <br /> <br />Her hell was constant... but to think <br />she could have sipped the drunken drink <br />of wild oats, that nemesis, <br />that joyful anagnorisis. <br /> <br />LRH <br />9.10.12<br /><br />Linda Hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/carol-s-oats/
