The Woman and the War Baby

(Click to enlarge)

Low moan
lipless scream
black wind
masks strangers
We slip our hold
spin, brittle as death.
Old wolf
as childhood nightmare.

“I’m addicted to reading. I read a lot on eReaders (hard to do a Page 143 poem from those) and I read a lot of paper books. Since finding your site, I’m always looking at page 143 in paper books, just to see what I can find. “The Woman and the War Baby” by Bill Ransom is a collection of his poetry and memoirs. It feels a bit odd taking a poem from a poem, and a short poem at that, but here it is. (Full disclosure here, Bill and I have had our paths converge now and then over the past several years.)” –Lenora Good

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