Puppet Show

A limp little donkey
forgotten on top of a cupboard
in the gathering dust
until a day when the new toys
were too stiff to be the puppets
and his time was finally right
able to dance from the strings
to get a standing ovation

Rocking Horse

Dappled, grey and white
Sad not to have found a home
between the automatic race cars
the toy soldiers and the soft teddy bears
waiting for a child
to find rocking joy

Child Room

A story begins in a nursery

a dim presence in the dark

not just a trick of light

refractions from a skylight

a shuttered window, or a row of mirrors

it was another recognition

an overlap of history and intuition

of perception and presence

a mother beyond her hearing

only in the next room

did not hear her cries

The Mermaid Who Couldn't Swim

you were so scared for Melina

who had sea drops and scales

and no hopes on the horizon

with a fin tail and salty tears

you asked why a mermaid

should be taught how to swim

and why the little boy

from the fishing village

drew pictures in the sand

and helped her find

a kingdom under the sea.

Sleeping Twins

clasped lids, the dream boxes

open with soft angel wings

glass cabinets

infinite possibilities

flutter on the shoulder

whispering dreams

gentle wings quiver

through pairs of ears like pink shells

into orbits of fantasy where

lightning speed imaginations whirring

wheels of ice creams, swings, sugar

all things bright and white

the tiny wings are swirling, guiding sleep

now they turn back

floating, slipping onto the past

the box snaps shut

as magic childhood dust gathers over

sleeping heads.

Tribute

I am the shadow at your feet

with fear and photos

somersaults and screams

and torn up dreams

dragging you, as you look down

you see only the dark reflection of yourself

I am just an invisible space

between history and memory.

Africa is tired, a deserted house

insomnia plagues endless nights

and liberation wars

strewn with brittle bundles of bones

but, for us, it is a country of silkworms

Sunday nights, guitar lessons

tennis clubs, sticker albums

small, not beautiful

bleak and beloved.

lovely light bright light shines on

fists and frowns inside beds

pillows swallow peaceful breaths

casting dreams, of demons

trolls, ballerinas prancing

the perfectly positioned sheets

and polished school shoes

for tomorrow

then there are nightmares

throwing voices of anger

scaring the darkness

surviving, bleeding between us

in the silence

tired terror screams from memory

painful angels

fluffy and furry

fall on splintering

sharp cornered nightly raids.

Greece (2)

It was five o’clock

suspended time of day in heat and dark

five o’clock

a bedroom full of peace

 pictures

stern ancestors

on the walls

five o’clock

a mother’s pride, with my tears on the pillow

it was quiet

and right

an inner resonance

combined breathing

you comforted

I cried

At five o’clock.