Saturday, 28 March 2015

Her

(A poem written after finding a bundle of poems I wrote at age seventeen)


Her.

I was turbulent then,
Ripping sheets from beds
and notebooks
firing up my heels
To run at life
And make it burn.

I had nameless, shameless
songs and steps
to dance and hurl
and love to find and hide
and weep for, laughing.


I kicked dark to black
and back to life
I whitened and lightened
Watched dawn on a shore
hid dusk in my handbag.

I was bright with me
Alive with me
I pelted full tilt
at speed taking
my dreams by the scruff
of a broken neck.

And now,
A word can break me
A look can shake me
A malicious heel on a foot can make me
cry.

I'm going back to find her.