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.
Wilderness – against the raw naked wind
days of futility – torn between
these empty lands of fortified migration.
Gravestones on mass, innocence fallen
cut deep amid the whining grass.
Intense of red
the flowers of fury, placid folded.
Heads frayed, touch the ground
between the rows of sleeping.
Killing time, eyes closed
bare footed, waiting for their
mother, brother sister – lover!
Dust of battles long time wrestled.
Therefore, shall the young ones remain
in all but their name…?
full mouthed, like a rattle snake in masquerade
fatalities numbers gathering, in the course of
Can you swallow the sound of the truth?
Or are you absorbed in my words of respect.
I never aspired to wound you – think me not your
butcher-bird perched on high waiting to assail.
As for all who loiter in the realms of your retribution
let it stand, how roses black, dressed in shaded vale
did decompose as a child filled her time –
waiting to be your Daughter:
Whilst sanguine nasturtiums, did weaken to
recollections of distant grey – only to wake outside
the believing of my childhood, extracting nothing
beyond the liberty of my mind…