Child and grandparent as one, the grass grows taller as I run from the mad hunger of a caretaker-
How could the adults do that?
As you overthrew your father, and now fear what is coming?
Oh god of harvest, of season’s change, the irony that you in particular do not pick up-
That the cycle will continue and the sickle will fall.
I am honored to have shared this poem from my friend Adelia. She is currently a third year university student in Arizona.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman