Wednesday, 1 September 2010

Day Thirty-two

Need to cheat a bit tonight because I need a break so here's an oldie from a couple of years ago that it the beginning poem of a set of three.

The Maiden
My mother dressed me in her
dreams. Plaited self esteem into
my hair. Each layer: vest, dress, tights
and shoes pregnant with her prayer.

She liked to kiss each toe in turn, a wish for
all the years to come. She’d hold
my fate and with her mantra
would have me fizzing.

She would heat up wild with anger and rail
against the world. Then white hot she would
unfurl spells and peel off
her bubbling skin.

And with each juicy strip she’d
lay on me, she’d calmly charm
self worth. I was (and am) a
cantrip shielded little girl.

1 comment:

  1. Gorgeous,gorgeous poem again. I heard an american tale recently about a boo-hag who pealed off her skin at night , reminded me of that...Lovely words and sentimentxx


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