crying — that godawful sign of life
panic — occasional sign of love —
sparrows in their branches shrieking to each other
about the cat in the grass.
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in hushed girlhood, i feared ghosts and falling —
now, i fly, dance, sing; i fear nothing but what waits in
the blackened backstage wing — your widegrinninglove,
those round clown cheeks, and it seems we meet again.
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Give me Antares, the brightest star in the Scorpius nebula
as Libra season runs dry.
Give me Jack rendered dull by work without play
and Mia Farrow’s tannis root charm.
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Months after escaping, it hit her —
realising is the hardest part.
It was the spring everyone went indoors,
turned the keys in their locks, and shut the sun out.
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I took a challenge from a pair of resilient hands.
You claimed to want to stop
Our tapestries bleeding into each other
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