Random note . 1

Why are all my words dressed like immigrants? 

I ask the twelve year old girl trapped in a photograph.

Plaid red pants. Two sizes too small for her.

Seagulls fleeing from a burnt sienna sky.

Grandpa’s hat drooped over her slanted eyes.

Where are you?

I ask the older woman missing from all the other photographs.

The question takes refuge and

I stand in my mother’s bathroom doorway.

She smiles in the mirror at me, brushing her teeth.

soft morning chirp 

from the open window,

white curtains

sway like a sundress and

faucet water rushes - spitting sound.

what is it? She asks.

Nothing. 

◄ Spring 봄

another stupid poem ►

Comments

Pat Hughes

Mon 28th May 2018 12:52

Excellent poem

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Isobel

Thu 24th May 2018 06:56

Nice handling of the theme Alex. I enjoyed your poem.

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Graham Sherwood

Mon 14th May 2018 11:12

There is an element of Murakami in this which I find compelling.

Good work

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