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In a dream
I couldn’t pinch myself out of
I combed the wild blonde curls
From a tender head
And stroked a cheek
Soft with so little time on this earth,
Watched two small eyes
Droop with the heavy sands of sleep
I boxed that picture up
With a ring I still can’t wear
Because the garnet burns too hotly.
A grey-green picture
Of Kansas-dry heat
Across a dingy ranch-style home
That I can’t go back to,
And a note in charcoal grey
That fades with every year.
Not that I would know.
I don’t
Look
Ever
And I don’t
Share
Ever
It’s a Skechers box
Pock-marked from shoving it further
Back into the distance of a
Walk-in closet
The distance of time
The distance of memory too sweet to bear
And I realize
That I rarely
Even
Dust it off
Anymore
Because the blue of this
Is that all that distinguishes
That life,
That love,
That surrogate motherhood
From just a dream I couldn’t
Pinch myself out of
Is a box
Stuffed in a corner
That contains three items
That I couldn’t even share
With you
My blood doesn’t fire hot
When you imply I do not know
What the smoothness
Of a too-young cheek
Draped in wild blonde curls
Feels like
Because
I didn’t
Share
Ever
title....and a poem that is quite lovely, that evokes personal memories in me. Enjoyed this very much
Eumenides, I loved this even as I hated how it made me feel. It probably doesn't (or does) help that I am dealing with something myself in which I have no non-involved person I can share my feelings with; thus the theme of private pain really got me.
I don't use the rating thermometers.
My perkspective on your poem is posted in the poetry forum on the new poems thread.