Lady Macbeth of Amalfi
The Madonna wears black lace and a sinister crown
as though she were already on a pageant cart
swaying through the city streets.
She looms over Christ outstretched on a bier,
at the scene of crime, reminding us
that of course it is all our fault.
It is always the mother’s fault.
“My wall is loosening”
- W.B. Yeats
I have moved to the top of the house,
so solid and spacious once.
This is where I sleep now
where the wind howls
and everything rattles.
The rest is a distant memory.
If you have any comments on these poems, Kathryn Southworth
would be pleased to hear from you.