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Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Onions Peels

Grey arms outstretched
a ballet dancer, she was the color
of the pavement, Mary Poppins
fallen from the sky, her umbrella lost-
she had shrunk in size, smaller than
a dollar bill, the ground shook
as a runner ran by.

The runner thinking of onion peels
in a still life rotting away, years of running
bones though still light, steps still light
but running on fallen leaves
crunching, crackling, running on
onion peels the color of fall.

Cardboard arms slightly ripped
a little person, without hands
or feet, a long dress and bonnet
fallen from the sky, her people lost
she had become flat,
grey against the colors of fall.

The walker thinking of trees-
a street in a tunnel
and gingerbread houses lined in a row
each their own, each their own story
of Sunday dinners, proms dresses, home from college,
the limousine to the church,
and then Sunday dinners, prom dresses,
home from college, waiting in the church.

The smell of a baby.

The cutout doll
abandoned, by her feet-
the color of pavement.

How perfect that she is grey, no colors
no design, just her arms outstretched
The proud stance, the long dress, a bonnet
Mary Poppins fallen from the sky,
A pioneer from the past, a Little Person
Gracing this side of the rainbow,
amongst the onion peels, the wrinkled faces:
a cutout doll.

3 comments:

  1. very well done. etkeld@yahoo.com

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  2. I think this quite brilliant, you. Very clever.Something that I am wanting to read over and over and over again.For each time I do, I discover something new.

    ReplyDelete