deepundergroundpoetry.com

Rockabye

He tucked a bairn in his cradle
Softly sweet, yes.
On noir sheets for his guest
Rock rock, swing swing
She falls into a lucid dream

He holds her so, in this cradle built
Of finest cedar, lined with silk
She tries to sleep, she begs for rest
As arms invade her secret nest
Whispers ever softly
In his cradle swinging fast
�Rockabye rockabye�
Like mothers soothe their babies
Now, where is that nurtured hold?
His body here, but bitter cold
She cries, she fights, and kicks the crib
Green eyes locked behind blonde lashes
Blink in startled stare
Still swaddled in the rockabye cradle
So spitefully destroyed, so she recalled
He held her, so she remembers
He placed her, so she thought
She crawled inside, she wonders
No matter the circumstances, she knows
With undeniable certainty
She is sick,
and could never climb into that rockabye cradle
So weak, so wasted still
Yes
She is very, very sick.