Poem Hunter
Poems
A Sad Child
(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

A Sad Child

You're sad because you're sad.
It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.

Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.

Forget what?
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favorite child.

My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you're trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning car,

and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.

User Rating: 3,8 / 5 ( 117 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Lawrence, Your tribute to Ernestine's work is excellent as one would expect of a master wordsmith.Ernestine's ability to paint pictures through words continues to thrill us all. Well said old man. Sid John.
Hey, Lawrence, you've put me in the public eye - what an honour, and one I don't deserve. But bless you all the same. I do appreciate what you have said and it is a lovely tribute beautifully written and a joy to read. Many, many thanks for your support, and if I ever become 'famous' you can have my autograph. Ha! Ha! I shall start practising. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX