Thursday, August 10, 2006



I bear no burden, save the one
of ordinariness that rides my back,
a scrawny crone, her weight
no more than a bundle of dry sticks.
She fills my ear with her raspy complaints.
You never buy me a new dress.
I saw that one with buttons of real bones.
They looked like your teeth,
so white and even.
Take me to the fair.
I want something sweet.
Faster. Slower.
Let’s go to sleep.

When did she climb to her easy perch,
wrap her limbs like rusty wire
around my chest? I must have stopped
along my brilliant arc, rested
too long. Everywhere her sisters crawl
and clack their bones against the spines
of all of us once so bright and true.


Catherine said...

Lovely poem - that "burden of ordinariness" seems to afflict quite a few of us :) (We are probably none of us as ordinary as we think we are).
Your collage art is beautiful. Thanks for visiting my blog

Hopalong EAC said...

Ego is always the enemy.


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