Scarecrow
I am somebody else -
tree hearted, rung with autumn;
my hands stroking the hard air,
a dream too fast with silver shrieks
and black tooth combs the Sky divided,
throttled with flight and fear.
She is somebody else -
a veil of curious moods,
blue glues of pluto and white horses
and nailed I cannot compete -
the furrows strain their ears;
corn to make the moon fat, and the birds.
They are somebody else's -
twilight throats of opal song,
loved in shapes of purple, oil and sun -
a palette of a day that shifts,
born and dead upon a wing -
but can you not see this love?
My grimaces are somebody else's -
stitched cruel on parts I cannot close;
arms locked out in fight, unfair.
Please come near! My shoulder,
my chin, my chest -
nestle into me my friend, and do not disappear.
Marianne Louise Daniels
Sat 18th Aug 2012 22:23
Thank you for your time and comments.
Laura - I am really touched by your response. Thank you
x