Books stacked in the corners, books by the bed—
What we lack in courage, we make up for in our heads.
On the radio, news of a mall shooting; or of refugees that fled—
Impossible to find enough solace from books stacked by the bed.
A boy watched his mother and sister killed: they had no hijab on their heads.
In the window box, wasps attack the flowers as if to behead.
Books stacked in the corners, books by the bed—
What our hearts lacked in courage, made up for in our heads.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
I love this triolet and how you slightly vary the lines. It’s so hard to write an interesting triolet.
I agree. Poems with repeating lines usually annoy me, but Luisa somehow manages to keep them interesting.