Half Drunk Muse Poetry

From the Archives...

Orphans and Bastards

So much depends
On lines that now

You must read
Between words.

Is it a school of fish
Or a business of ferrets?

Forbidden fruit
Of a servant’s sin,

Before dusk
You are


Voices in the street
Speak out of tune.

You say: “Free us
“From time and space”.

“From delivery doors,”
Echoes the driver.

Abandoned animal,
Like mine your birthday

Is not an event.
No one will feast

On your mother’s placenta.
So far North, deep and inside

We drag our African murmur split
Between our French syllables.

Submitted by Alexandre Amprimoz Published in Winter 2005

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.