Christina,
Hi. Quick thoughts/reactions. I wondered about bones and compost - the grave
sort of suggests this already.
IO note that the last 2 stanza are 'thicker' with words than the earlier S,
and wondered if you might smooth a few words in each.
Cheers,
Frank
>
> Dolly
>
>
> On a train to Weybridge
> I pass my grandmother's grave.
> She's bones now - bones and compost
>
> in a naked plot and I wonder
> if music might be held
> in a mulch of lips and larynx
>
> and whether bones have sex?
> I imagine her pelvic girdle
> gyrating - gently, like the loose rhythm
>
> of this train, rising to crescendo
> where there are no bars of Sunlight,
> scrubbing boards, scullery mangles
>
> or a yard where the slimey trail of snails
> stretches to a ditch and patch of rhubarb.
> Sing, Dolly. Make the earth move.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>christina fletcher
The Tales of Faust poetry page can be found at:
http://www.hotkey.net.au/~flp/F_index.htm
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