The Son

MOTHER'S SON

Deformed
Love
Is applauded

Misguided
Sentiment
The rage.

Child-like
Innocence
Marauded

Mother's rape
Has weakened
Her gauge.

But somewhere
There are
Fields of clover,

Hearth fires
Glow...glassed
In red

And cliffs
Where souls
Climb over and over

Still reach
The hill
Where Mother's Son bled.