At the Bitter End

[Eight-line Fibonacci]

 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

About Carol Foreman Brockfield

Poet in Medford, Oregon
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One Response to At the Bitter End

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