harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
"Certainly, as I watched the Manx cat pause in the middle of the lawn as if it too questioned the universe, something seemed lacking, something seemed different."
-- Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
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and to think that you should find my bones scattered like flowers and grass cuttings along a road whose name was pleasance.
little do you know: where i am still soaked through as alice in her pool, warming my hands and feet in the foxgloves, at the back of the garden where we would once play as children:
you must have seen my baby tooth smile gleam in the pots and pans; where my mouth was sweet as raspberries , lips syrupped by calpol and the baby spoons in the drawer.
you must have seen through my misty eyes: the sandbox and the watering cans, out of the open window grazed girls' knees green in spring and a throat yellow and buttercupped -- maybe thought how lolly loved you even then
before her milk teeth fell like drops of jam -- when the washing was out on the line -- the purple clouds of my sleep lashed by light, when my dreams gleamed on my pillows and my head was heavenly as cut grass.
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