Man of glass
fractured you stood
No longer, in residence anyone of your name
Spirals of memories –
fishing boats trawl waters deep
dream catchers with their secrets to keep
flickering images of black and white
reliving fragments of others acceptance.
Mother dear you’ve stitched that piece before
I know, you knew, that one day
someone would come knocking on our door
think you can wear that blanket
of ignorance for always, strip off that outer
coat of varnish –
scrub away the tarnished debris
You should have been an actress
encore after encore
with everyone screaming more
more, more – but not me!
In shiny yellow stocking, I held
my step father’s hand
in my shiny yellow stocking I
simply – did – not – understand.
My house is all whitewashed
whiter than chicken bones left drying
in the noon day sun.
I was five –
when they set you to rest
but here, you still live
my overdue resident, of sometime past.
How many things do I need to remember
outside the love of a father and child?
I suffered from no preconceptions
A child never does –
you offered, and I melted like sugar
so all the children can sing, as we let
the sea wash over us.
On the day they buried you
I played – though never in fun.
I felt it was better than crying
less to make those grown ups mad.
Someone stopped to touch my head
they seemed old
so very, very old
I remember thinking
how long you were dead – you would always be you!
never to be that way:
So I smiled –
as I painted my house white…