I.
I imagined it would be
gentle
two planets
gently
bumping in space
she crossed over to a world of birds
my mind
layers deeper than knowing
entices me
drawing me near her
somehow missing that stopping place in time
found instead a world not gentle, where
limbs do not hold or keep us any longer
bodies are not ours
and a sad voice slides out of my mouth like
a lizard
with a life of its own
the strange little girl, the queer little girl
was sitting at her soup
she was trying out her eyebrows
don't glare said the mother
and the soup flew away
her eyes followed the soup
the strange little girl, the queer little girl
did not notice
but her face went wrong somehow
what do they think of
not of me
they say it is me that they think of
but I am not there
the chair is
the chair is a little askew
there is room for the chair
In their picture of me there is no door
all is drawn tight
no window for escape
and what of the empty eyes? I said
there is no use waking them
they glimmer like jewels
on the fingers of little rich girls
II.
time came
when visions came sparingly
the world had shrunk
no longer belonged to me
and I a shadow
in an enchanted world
and try to reach again that world of birds
further it goes
the lunge and gone
I have found it in my night, my day
never in my grasp
it spurns me
the knowledge of something lost
but no memory to call it
some days the planets come closer together
when you come they almost meet
fear parts them
do you love me?
and they fall apart
as our bodies in love
as our minds in love
I want not to watch this parting that turns physical truth into a sad torment
of worlds
III.
I dreamt of a child
so wild
I fed her full of pink pills
to lay her gently down
her face shown golden
I repent to wonder
will she awake?
and now how long
have I held this hope
a hope
tucked lightly
in a careless pocket
child
laid in a river bed
of moss
pull cover soft
gently rest
IV.
rising higher
the cloud wound around the far mountain
I could see it from away where I stood
on the ground, solid, low
it was my cloud
it was my cloud, and it was my mountain
and the earth beneath my feet is mine also
and that grass that I am rolling in
it is moist and I am getting muddy
it is my laugh
and I watch as it slides out of my mouth
rolls on the grass
rises to join the cloud
winds around the mountain
prev poem / poems contents / next poem
author poems stories art gallery the things that always were Erin's page favorite links
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|