envy
i walk around with her name on. a sock on the hand. i say 'i'm blonde'. i say 'look at my dress." i collect the tiny tatters turned to glitter against the baseboards. the dust of bodies so old it sparkles. our feet have polished all the crumbs. she wakes up slowly. scratches her eyelashes. i find one on my breakfast plate. i pluck it from the egg. wear it on my cheek. snatch the wish that accompanies such things.
2 comments:
A poem that combines stealth and directness, tiptoeing; your wish has lodged in my tightening chest.
Recent correspondence and conversation with my siblings has brought to light aspects of my younger self of which I had no awareness. And for a few days I have thought that was significant, trying to reinterpret my life using new information. Enough. We can only dig so long and so deep before we simply wish to lie in whatever trough we've created and get some rest.
Meanwhile, the ocean floor east of Australia is rising each day.
I was able to wear my mother's shoes by the time I reached 4th grade. I danced in her suede pumps in a class play about South America.
goodmorning, marylinn!
i hope the wish doesn't hurt too bad. ;) and yes... sometimes the digging needs to stop. i'm trying to learn to let acceptance take over and work a new kind of magic all its own.
your comment is a poem. i thank you for it. this is a wonderful way to start this day.
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