I Dream In Colour

I dream   of fire-pits
flames the colour blue
yellows licking at my spine
Rose-coloured glasses
smashed   in grey rejection
A mustard-orange pain
burning

Bright reds   dark reds
blood reds...red blood
spilling in my dream
filling hands   buckets   rooms
Blood red rooms
dripping

I dream   of hospitals
white uniforms
green garbage bags of death
Colours fading
brown earth
brown earthworms eating

Black

* "I Dream In Colour" was originally published in Poetry Halifax Dartmouth No. 27

Close Cover Before Striking

Your touch awakes me
Tempts me
to shed my slumber-skin
Your teasing fingers dance
like flames   upon my spine
I feel the heat of body
pressing   into body
Yet wrap my arms around you
like a moth   drawn
to a fiery death

Your whispered words of love
mesmerize
Entice me to ignore
the acrid smell   of burning wings
Forgetting match-book cover wisdom
I melt
into your fire

The scent   of After Shave
hangs heavy in the air
like smoke

* "Close Cover Before Striking" was originally published in Poetry Halifax Dartmouth No. 27

You...Do Not Know Me

mirrors   do not know me
I am not   round face
nearsighted   weak chin   small
breasts   stomach stretched   from
bearing children
dimpled thighs   kneecap
missing   grey hair mingled
with the brown   more grey
than brown

close friends   do not know me
I am not   good wife
good mother   swimming
with the tide   sitting
on the fence   always ready
to make brownies    for their
bake sales

you   do not know me
you find me   shy   an
introvert   never tasting
chunks of Life larger   than
a woman's share   you
do not know me
inside   I dance
naked   in the North wind
catch bullets   with
my teeth   walk wires
high   above an open fire

*  "You   Do Not Know Me" was originally published in The Pottersfield Portfolio Volume 9

Requiem

I watch you

wasting into baggy skin

pointed bones

in place of full breasts

wide hips

strong arms

that used to cradle me

You lie

in your hospital bed

white face whiter

than hospital sheets

Pain lines replace

the crows-feet

(that you claimed added character)

I chase you

down labyrinth tunnels

of mists and floating figures

always one step behind

never close enough

to catch your pain

I hold you

in loving arms

the way a mother holds her child

the way a woman-child holds

her dying mother

Note: My poem "Requiem" was originally published, in a slightly different format, in "Solstice 2: The Truth and Fictions of Ageing", edited by A. Burke. ISBN 0-920689-06-X

Little did I know when I wrote that poem in 1989 that my mother's death in 2005 would so closely follow the lines I wrote. Was it a poem-premonition?

The Bridge

It's peaceful on the bridge
Watching water wash over polished stones.
See the tadpoles?
Hear the mermaids calling me?
Please let me go.

Note: This short poem (140 characters or less) was inspired by Stony River's 'Microfiction Monday' picture of an older couple standing on a bridge, looking down at the water. The picture seemed melancholy to me, suggesting that perhaps the couple was losing their fight against dementia. Be sure to check out Stony River (listed in my blogroll) for guidelines to Microfiction Monday.

I Forgot

I forgot how he looks in clothes that fit his skin
How handsome he is in a tux
I forgot that only yesterday
He was young and healthy and we laughed
A lot
I remember only
That I love him
Have always loved him
Will always love him
Even when skin and bones and blood
Are offered in fire
To the gods