Tuesday, August 01, 2006

A short poem by an unknown woman poet


I closed my hands upon a moth
and when I drew my palms apart,
Instead of dusty, broken wings,
I found a bleeding, human heart.

I crushed my foot upon a worm
that had my garden for its goal,
but when I drew my foot aside
I found a dying human soul.

Dora Sigerson Shorter
The Golden Treasury. Pagrave, Francis T. New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc. 1973. P 559


To qualify my headline: I've never heard of Dora Shorter- has anyone else?

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