Thursday, June 10, 2010


Chapter one out of three (or four) went on looking at the back garden through those thick, pointed leaves a rain forest of ten metres by four a plastic shovel, a broken yellow toy track all her tools a proper excavation for her boyish short hair but she haven’t really got a proper map and her compass is a bit messed up and her ‘dinates, kind of less than half but something’s telling her, it can’t be that hard you are determined not to leave before you give earth her second skin and marvel ‘neath the surface the buried treasure ship with the nackles, and the fleeces and all the golden blood and the rude and vile one eyed men, with the strong arms the days ‘re passing, and they are getting shorter too and across the street other girls are laughing with their pretty unicorns and their clean summer shoes and that annoying and cheeky cousin of yours, with the cryptic clues there is still so much earth to remove logic says it is n ‘t there, never was, it cannot be and your shovel is half broken and same goes for your wrist watch it tells you ten by four Your father calls you, and pats you at the back he calls you naïve, and wears a charming smile oh sister please tell me, when did you give up the try oh please sister tell me when did you die Chapter two the wall has five sides at the bed where he lies impromptu dramas, a calculated martyrdom a campaign of change, in the straight line of time caught inside a fishnet of tough love and other feelings that have the wrong names a cemetery for broken chairs that one you love to hate lying next to you a motherly luring scent, urging you to caress her hair the dessert that you mistook for a field between your palms and her dreams filled with strong willed turtles on broken wheels

No comments:

Post a Comment