Trouble Girl

1 August 2015

Look how she looks
in the looking glass.

Fingers press
the sun

dust mouth opens
in an ‘O’

hair scratches
on the surface

her feet
kick at the floor

at the shift of backwards
as it carries on ahead of her.

* * * *

There are no answers
in the mirror.
No blueprint
of the girl
to store in the mind’s eye
nor any shadow
to fall in the light.

She must be
a displacement of time,
a confusion of dreams.

* * * *

They found her
in the garden.
Small girl of trouble
crouching in colour,
face buried in gypsophila,
breath heaving
with no tears.

* * * *

This entry was posted in 51.0: TRANSTASMAN and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related Posts:

Comments are closed.

Please read Cordite's comments policy before joining the discussion.