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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4628 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Flour, Water, a Bit of Paste T. E. Ballard (Treezaa) I’ll create a woman of papier-mache; flour, water, a bit of paste. Newsprint for her skin. Thin strips will form her legs; the color of burnt oranges, painted slowly with a sable brush will give her history; a blemish, a scar, a day too long. Her eyes; tiny mirrors, clear and translucent will speak; you do not see me, do you, it was reflection all along. I will dress her in my cotton robe, lay her down. Morning winds may blow through the window left open. And she will rise, my gal, pulled down the stairs by children, placed by a man who sits with his paper in hand -- never looks up. Held down by weight, she'll nod as their fingers flutter by her chin. And no one will notice the other; white, made of bone, float away. |
