The mirror lies today. No child
looks back in innocence except
with the eyes, the same startled ocean green,
those changing moods.
Today, the tide rushed in and
I thought I was in my Easter outfit
sewn by my grandmother,
pink and white striped cotton with white frills
of lace, gathered waist, bunny buttons;
the hat a woven bonnet
with acrylic daisies.
Such
a happy child, buoyed in the world,
treasured starfish.
I see her image dissolve into the pool,
waves loosening at my feet.
Without Persona Monday, Jul 28 2008
Poetry 4:19 pm
Husk Monday, Jul 28 2008
Poetry 4:17 pm
In time, the wind pulls seeds from the husk
at will, by season’s determination.
Nothing stops this, not all the wishes
in the world.
I slip out on the wire of air,
An acrobat in my own invisible life,
One foot upon what’s known, one foot lifted
on the hidden path of desire.
What drives such performance is a mystery,
resists even the hardest resolutions
not to fall.
The inevitable descent,
gravity
plunges a seed to unpredictable landing, into sand
or rich soil, to a foreign field, the debris of rebirth.
