Poetry Porch: Poetry


By Robert K. Johnson

      (for my sister)

At first the darkness came
along with the dark of night;
it leaned over her where she lay
in bed and cupped her face,
unhappy beyond tears.

Then it came before nighttime,
came while she played with her dolls
or sat in class or at work
or cooked for her family;
and it shriveled her like a sickness,

steeped everything around her
in drooping misery.
Helpless as a leaf,
she had to wait longer and longer
for it to go away.

Until it never left.
And she knew there was only one way
she could defeat it: let it
wrap her in its black arms
and eat her, mouthful by mouthful.

Copyright © 2014 by Robert K. Johnson.