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Sunday, September 13, 2009

Old Friends

There is a girl who dances
          illuminated
through the thickets of my memory.

The hitched breath of an unuttered sentence
This new silence hangs
       in the air
An unwelcome guest
That we are too polite
    to dismiss.

Gone are the days
when your wounds could be soothed
with a kiss
       and frog-print plasters,
A stuffed bear your security


When did you stop seeing dragons in the clouds?


Skipping ropes, faeries;
Magazines, boys;
Frost and coffee
     you are your own saboteur.
So sleek and polished
  vacant-efficient


Your imperfections were beautiful
       to me.


Clicking heels and ties and trains
  Society’s demons
smothered the passions
     of a fierce woman-child


I wonder if you see
    my too-bright smile
A laugh
  constrained by circumstance
My life in sepia, framed; contained




When did we stop seeing dragons in the clouds?