feral woman

the feral moonlight

lightly touches the cat

but what of the aging feral woman

holding tightly-grasped flowers

drinking from glass branches

in late november


withered voiceless flowers

pulled loose from stones

fragmented shadows, lingering

the forecast, snow


one day her heart stops

that’s what happens

the thud

partially dispersed by echoes


transparent deep freeze

breaking news

loss, stillness

flashing lights

blankets too late


oh, hour


by mary ann blinkhorn

25 thoughts on “feral woman

  1. abdulbencamel says:

    clearly you know well the phonic values and effect of quiet words and their volume in reflection

  2. e says:

    The loss, the stillness, both deeply felt, poet.


    • mypenandme says:

      Thank you, Eric. The news that an elderly man was found dead early this morning in a parking lot just a few blocks away from me got me thinking about many things.

  3. Teresa Cleveland Wendel says:


  4. guest8675309 says:

    This is very high quality!

  5. williamricci says:

    Favorite line is “drinking from glass branches”.

  6. Wonderful. I felt the thud.

  7. Raani York says:

    This poem somehow reminds me of fall… when the leaves fall… it is very interesting and touched me.

  8. Nice poem, Mary Ann, but will you explain to me the meaning of the last line–“oh hour”? Somehow I don’t get it. Thanks.

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