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Empty Throated Wound
The rawness
reaches
back to childhood.
And each time
a gentle scrap,
the merest of things,
opens
the gaping wound
cavernous
empty throated
a tired, hungry thing
growing on insecurity,
self hatred,
that needing thing.
Needing just a little love
to help fill it in.
Funny how I
keep picking
uncaregivers
those narcissistic men
who preen and primp
see adoration
reflected in my face
give nothing
back
but that used up feel.
Your
face is blankness
to them,
can’t even hear a
whimper or cry,
think our tears
are just
drink for their table.
We can not see
the purity of ourselves
and so we
seek the dirt of others
and get overrun
in their confused clutter
the mind’s spewing stuff.
And live in a gutter
of our own making.
Linda Woolven
has published 35 poems in journals across Canada, the United States and England.
The poems have appeared in Journals such as, Dana Literary Society, Amethyst Review, Write On,
Sepia Poetry Magazine, New Mirage Quarterly, The Kaleidocope Review, ,
Pink Chameleon and Fullosia Press. One of her poems received an award from Dana Literary Society.
She has also published a short story in Happy.
Email: Linda Woolven
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