This is a development of an exercise undertaken as part of a tutorial for A215. It didn't amount to much in the form in which I found it in a long-forgotten file. Now, though, I am quite pleased with it. This is part of the the value of NaPoWriMo, isn't it? Roll on next year!
My grandmother told me she fought and screamed
through two red days and white nights;
recalled how her shrinking flesh was racked,
hacked opened like so much meat.
She described how she cursed and scratched and spat,
and thrashed and wrestled and swore.
'You drop your pride with your drawers,' she said.
'That was my first mistake.
She survived the birth but with what sad weight
my father tipped the balance of her life;
for her ten-pound, laughing, blue-eyed boy
she was stripped of all her bloom.
Though love flowed through and about her still,
all the warmth and the wanting had fled.
The lamplight threw shadows that mocked her youth
and the bedlinen crawled with her fear.
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