Compartment 114
Compartment 114
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Schools For The Blind

Schools For The Blind

A Poem by Abigale LeCavalier

Schools For The Blind



It's not as if

the heart were winter,

torn in the ice

under brandy colored skies.


It is ripe fruit

and go ahead and take it;

there are no more walls

and clear fields for miles,

for miles.


The Sun shines always

the water clear

the bread very sweet

soil tilled

animals tended

children cared for

the grounds are spotless!


Absolutely spotless.


Her skin is cool milk

blood the same as her mothers;

shes a giver

a provider

a romantic

a poet

a lover

and a fool.


Yet not absent-minded

turning the dirt for dead,

she collects stares and Forget-me-not's

instead of kisses or letters.


She collects pockets full

of broken fingernails,

instead of Valentines or roses.

© 2016 Abigale LeCavalier


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Added on May 22, 2016
Last Updated on May 22, 2016