After “The Pillow Book”
1.
I’m lost in a transient sort of state
utterly lost and abandoned,
I mean who was this girl–
this thing–
I’ve become?
2.
REGRET
on a dry, razor- perfect cut lawn,
her red lips are stained with a sort of
forced forgetfulness.
the magenta furls of summer,
like kites or long twirling dresses.
White alabaster carvings in her mind
of a boy she almost left behind,
like a patch of cool shade in the late afternoon,
making her swoon.
3.
THE DREAM
The wooden chime sings in the air, as
we take a moment to find ourselves once again.
We will sing, like two small flutes,
like proud-breasted birds,
on miniature twigs,
as the wind rides on the current like a dancer on the water,
flickering in
and out
of everything, as if she were a
skater without skates.
she flies once again through the night
without any means of suspension
not by firelight,or torchlight, or by the sound of her breath,
but by the only sense that she has
which is senseless.
4.
I’m lost in a transient sort of state
utterly lost and abandoned,
I mean who was this girl–
this thing–
I’ve become?
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry
Photography Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 