Untitled-Acrostic By Angela O’Connor
Now it’s too late, your push too far.
Every phrase and look you make
Guts the flesh of its life.
And you, yes you, desire that explosive reaction.
Tumbling letters of unstoppable emotive fractions.
I’ve known you many years, plenty good and happy,
Vanished they seem in this decade of older depravity.
Early one day I will rise and think of only your smile.