Michellia Wilson
Poetry Marathon Hour 9 (2021)

 

THE WOMAN THINKS

The interests of the woman,
alone more than twenty years,
musters poor judgement
on the stage of the world.

She questions the fog
rolling yonder over far away hills,
so thick,
the moisture dowses her skin –
all on an autumn morning.

She makes her feeble decisions
about life with a pause,
she lights a hemp roll, inhales,
and coughs deeply,
in the morning dew.

No one told her there would be
days when the void
outside her being,
would largely match the void
inside her soul.

Her day has just begun
and daylight is full In it’s fogginess –
the woman coughs again,
snubs the butt and enters
into a day of chores.