She made it through the Spanish flu
a million others died
but slipped and fell with scissors held
Oh, how her parents cried
Rorschach’s plume, still in bloom
soaks through her dressing gown
she raps on heaven’s pearly gate
but no one is around
When sorrow clings to angel wings
They might-as-well be clipped
So back to earth
To haunt the house
Where she tripped and slipped
Immortal klutz with lots of cuts
dark shadows on the wall
she roams the house without a spouse
wrapped loosely in her shawl
Geoffrey Reilly is a skilled, passionate, and collaborative information designer and writer with over 30 years of experience in the software industry. He lives in Warren, RI with his wife Meg and their dog, Pepsi.
In his spare time, he writes essays, poetry, and (every now and then) short stories.
You can find his creative endeavors on his blog site, Bending the Needle – Truth Hurts and on his personal website.
If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org