we did puppetry at five o’clock-
your eyes, a broken bead of sleep
and i, just a girl.
the shop windows
were sealed with winter.
and i told you ;
you pulled my limbs
enjoying how they sounded more special
than plastic
as i rubbed against the wind of you
but you
never said it back.
i could not afford the luxury of strings.
we must have given birth
to christmas that day:
you
doing cheap finger work
me
wearing misunderstood fabric in my head.
children caught us
and have waited for it to happen
ever since
only there’s no old man in the sky.
just snowflakes
that won’t read the mind.
Author notes
Aug. 31, 2008
A contest entry
- God Enters Through The Wound by Envelope.
2600 points, ended September 16, 2008, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Honesty.
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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unfair
... this is brilliant metaphore, it touches every aspect of inner life and the godhead .. it is just simply brilliant ... i have to compete with this???!!!
your gentle format and your smooth, tender words with a sharp, shining edge ... wow
bravo to you, most excellent poet!!!
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Aww thank you.
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nothing for me to say here really, you wrote and stole the show, my thoughts and everyone elses, this was beautiful, beautiful beyond beauty's meager definition
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There's something about your poetry that makes it almost impossible to critique, a sense that they are whole in and of themselves.
Its difficult to suggest alterations or additions because each part fits in in a way that only your own mind could explain. I really can't articulate myself today so I hope you know what I mean. I love your words but at the same time I have the sense that I haven't fully understood them.
"i could not afford the luxury of strings" was my favourite here. It set me to thinking, which doesn't happen all that often
Thank you, take care x x x
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Thank you, I'm flattered
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This is my favorite poem from you I love it - I can't tell you how much I love it - there are just not enough words! And I almost missed it because I only saw the newest - 
I'll never make that mistake again every single line is my favorite! I'll be reading this poem again and again and again 
Keep writing
Polly
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