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.
I don’t need my friends to come calling
banging on the door, bringing with them their platitudes
and childlike fairy-tales of happy ever after’s.
I enjoy my solitude – alone is me
I get along well, being by myself.
Does that make me sound ungrateful slightly the oddball
with my ladder, not altogether reaching normality’s floor?
Then to hell if it does – I can handle that, its people
who screw me up.
Sometimes I think I am a hologram lacking
of any bodily substance.
Therefore, I close my eyes
much preferring the world from behind this shuttered view
of which the solitude is so breathtakingly indescribable.
I know if I refuse to play their games, they will eventually leave.
Thankfully, I am not like them,
at least there is some sanity –
We don’t know yet
that you are dying – when it arrives
embracing me lost, I shall take this place
deeper to me bending our bodies
into day and night.
Sleep shall leave me shallow, remote
in it’s hum of peace-less antidotes.
Décor of early mornings
stirs the reminders – my fingers
holding back the clock
until that final tick tock, foretelling
the ending of our summers concluding