I dreamt I
swooned towards the mirror
skin stretched tight
teeth skeletally exposed
straining to remove
the non-existent.
Behind appeared
a figure
a dark and looming apparition
Father in his nightgown
come to check
my
progress.
Taking possession
one bear paw hand steadied my brow
the other
made swift, deft swipes
transforming the sky of my forehead
sculpting a perfect bow.
'Don't be so hard on yourself,' he said
in a tone I'd never heard used before
while his hands
which had never been tender
looked strangely white
felt strangely gentle.
YOU ARE READING
Barbed Wire
PoetryBarbed Wire reflects ironically (I hope) on the different roles of barbed wire - from its practical uses on a farm to the experiences of my father while he was incarcerated in a forced labour camp. It also questions how barbed wire might view itsel...
