At the Bitter End

[Eight-line Fibonacci]

 Toss
 some,
 squander
 what remains
 nothing left beats lean,
 eking it out, making it stretch.
 Those were the words she lived hard by till the end approached,
 found her savoring each meager moment, begging only one more pinched
       throw-away breath

-Carol Brockfield
Verseweavers, Spring 2010
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About Carol Foreman Brockfield

Poet in Medford, Oregon
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to At the Bitter End

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