Leda’s child
White shell tumbles to the ground
Your fingers touch the yolk
You pour what could have been
Me
From fist to fist
The zygote clings to your skin
But hatching takes time
And warmth
I could have been a goddess
Virgin Artemis with her bow
I could have been
But you spread you fingers slowly
And let what could have been me
Go
Yvonne Walus
If you've any comment on her poems,
Yvonne Walus
would be pleased to hear from you.
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