Monday, 27 October 2014

New poem: I sit on the floor

dollies in my lap
have to be quiet
for the news
Grandpa says
so silent I sit
dollies silent like me
I stoke their hair
clothes swapping would be fun
granddad says
can’t undress the dollies
 can’t see through my back
afraid to undress them
his tone
bad news blasting on full volume
on that old tv set –

grams in the kitchen tidying up
I know it
so I sit on the floor
with my dressed dollies
while I stroke down their dresses
quiet like am supposed to be
News fills the room with its tragedies
everything bad, ugly and more important then me
News with its voice monotonous voice
mine isn’t even a crumb in me
I stroke my dollies coarse blonde manes
following instructions
of silent and playtime obedience
Newscast wearing itself out
and my granddad will let me speak
but by then my voice will be dead

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