Posts Tagged with Memory
0
Sadadeen

These streets;
the ink smudge where the motion repeats
dry, cracked heels, dirty feet
Point A to Point B
and somewhere in between:
thoughtless impulse.

I spit a cigarette
lit the wrong way in the dark
a fucking waste
the taste never forgotten.

There’s six in this group
I flat-out refuse
to get in the boot.

I’m a good girl
doing the bad, coming of age, acting out
vulgar and know-it-all
unladylike and loud.

I guess (unknowingly)
all part of the “figuring it out”
through trial and mistake
and the choices I make
as part of the shaping
taking corners without breaking –
I squeal in delight.

0
Locked Door

Fifteen
and the memory

She locked herself
in the bathroom
refusing
to open the door

I was summoned, the authority
exasperated with hands in the air
“talk to her, will you”

“Go away! I want to kill myself.”

I could do nothing
but bare witness
to the moment that later,
we pretended hadn’t occurred

the next day
normalcy returned

and I rubbed my temple
where it had burned.

0
Book Jacket Manifest

It begins with Love, something felt
A rush of warmth
Afternoon… bitumen
A classroom exercise and[!]
We’re paired to dance
[Here Comes Your Chance, Girl]
Summon the Cool, pretend to chew
Chewing gum, casual
Punctured by a giggle
Oh so nervous: a darling demonstration
Young, heart-pumping, bright eyes
Clearly-
you’ve no idea!
Our Hands linked, clumsy feet
[perfection, really]
My direct gaze
[Dare not look away!] …savouring
This boyish boy, this spunky spunk
With well-know initials
in the margins of my workbook
And blue pen on my palm
A childish act; deliberate
As if it could manifest
– shoot out from the hands into existence.
I stand straight; straight and proud
Thankful for this time, my chance
Over the other pretty girls
with braided hair and lunchbox sweets
[low ponytail, my golden apple]
The boy stands, moves,
Moves as I do [or tries to]
This dancing girl
Actioning the Feet, Playing Cool,
all while Making Note
The Mind Camera – click, click, click
and memory preserved
locked, wound-tight
for the unravelling later, when
The Writer emerges to fan the fiction
Alone in my Room
There, I summoned You
My fantastical creation
The narration of events
[not quite] rightly so
The promise of a kiss
I replay, my theatre
Lips to hand, soft, pretending
It happened [!]
With the same conviction
looking for the Clover
in a green blanket of possibilities
[one I knew didn’t exist]
[but looked for nonetheless]
So that it might grant me
Just one wish –
Might these Day Dreams
be as Night Dreams
and exist in the waking morning
the Desired Events [obsessively nurtured]
Played out beautifully, as rehearsed
Over and Over and Over
You knew, [of course you did]
[or at least, you do now]
that you shared
a name with the King
The King of Horror.
Musing-
Perhaps that influence, Now
This joy in fright
Travels down the spine
The scare – such a delight!
And skipping life’s pages
Present-
A bookshelf
and browsing book jackets
[my proud collection]
Here!:
The name reminds me
Back then,
Back when-
the girl was quick to blush
You were the first boy
…the First Crush.

1