Saturday, March 7, 2009


Sandbox Pictures, Images and Photos
So what do I say?
Does it even matter now that
all the sand is gone?
I never played there anyway.

So what . . .
if I heard things I wasn't supposed to?
So what . . .
if I knew the world was going to end
when I was only seven?

How do you carry the sins of your mother
and one day say no more
and one day say . . . go away
and don't come back!?

What do you say to God?
Where were you???
I know . . . I know . . . but I really don't know
even though I was supposed to
even though I thought all children were forgiven.

Joanne Cucinello 2008


  1. Thank you, just another guy. Glad you liked it. I've read your poetry and left a comment for you too. Have a great weekend!

  2. Thank you Mary. I'm caught sometimes by memories that can only be expressed for me in poetry. I'm grateful for your comment.


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