Lorraine Bonner Sculpture Arts

Cup 25: Running

 

 

I sit in the room with dead babies strewn across the floor in drifts like dark snow.

 

I’m supposed to feel something.

 

I want to run it doesn’t matter where.

 

Maybe you want to run with me.

 

No. You can’t.

 

I know the difference between alone and lonely.

 

I know the difference between shame and guilt.

 

I know the dead babies hate me.

 

They blame me.

 

I have a lot of excuses.

 

The judge doesn’t care.

 

I am running running running looking like a normal person sitting on the bus.

 

The babies are already dead, even though they are not yet born.