Heather
I really like the helter skelter push of the first stanza, but feel
some of that rush gets lost later on. I found the 2nd line in the last
stanza felt awkward as is, but here your ability to bring variant
discourses nto the one speech seems to be working more interestingly...
Doug
On 2-Nov-05, at 10:09 AM, Heather Taylor wrote:
> Confinement
>
> After school care turned 24 hour close watch
> when ER doctors prescribed a housebound state:
> the march of red measle ants thru checked corridors
> made hospital reprieves deadly for shrivelled lungs,
> pneumonia turning bronchioles into tiny fists.
>
> My sleep surpassed counting sheep to 5 day affairs,
> consciousness a parade of banana syrup,
> toast soldiers, my mom's open palm pounding my back,
> to spasms as I monkey-hung off of her knee,
> my head two fingers from a mixing bowl turned bucket.
>
> My mum became warden,
> I became ungrateful,
> my house became the pillow
> that suffocated me in the night.
>
> It isn't til now, years passed like tabloid papers,
> that I remember her sat days at my bed
> my pre-pubescent frame relearning how to breath
> while she willed me back to life through sleep hungry nights,
> her hand a light touch on my back, a salvation.
>
> Heather
> www.heathertaylor.co.uk
>
>
Douglas Barbour
11655 - 72 Avenue NW
Edmonton Ab T6G 0B9
(780) 436 3320
The blank page
as merely an interval or
an intrusion. We could not rescue it
nor could we huddle, as if the page were
big enough.
Kathleen Fraser
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