Four-leaf clover (poem)

Pastel and felt pen drawing of contemplative woman

 

 

 

Four-leaf clover

 

When she’s dead they’ll clothe her

False to claim they’d known her

In a room of duty saving hours of light

Mothballs give a church scent

Skirt-clad hips span bench lengths

She slips indoors alive

 

Why is it not yet over?

Holdouts dare suppose her

Likelier than they to crash in flight

Stalemates smell like sacrament

Bored with it, embrace defeat

She feeds on hoarded years and thrives

 

What if she’s prim and sober

Ignore but don’t oppose her

She may be the wiser, proven right

She’ll settle for contentment

Judging not, lest she be them

Her story she’ll unleash in time

 

 

 


Four-leaf clover

Oil painting of fantasy beings in confrontationApprehensively

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2021, Stephanie Foster)

 

 

 

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