top of page
Image by Cora Leach
Writer's pictureNolcha Fox

Too Late to Mourn



I threw my childhood bones

in your incinerator.

You lured my younger years

with melted sweets, 

and cannonballs 

that emptied out the pool.

You were a shimmer, Summer,

a mirage of days to play

in endless heat. My feet

were bare, I didn’t care 

if streets were cooking

off my skin. I was a sacrifice,

a holocaust. Those years are lost.

No tears can bring them back again.


published in Sonnets to Sing

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page