Her poems are like so many naked corpses piled into one mass grave <br />Buried there in an attempt to cover the stench of her life's work <br />Her jilted lovers and aborted children reach out from the other side <br />With dirt in their teeth and their placenta covered little hands and feet <br />They beckon you to crawl in under the umbilical cords of dangling participles <br />To experience the emptiness of their delegated authority and soul <br />To discover why it was they were buried while still alive..... <br />With so many secrets untold.... <br /> <br />2007 © T Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lady-al-qaeda/
