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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:08:05 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 116968
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => what picture do I keep?
[time] => 2006-03-24 10:08:53
[hometext] => In memory of Jamie Anderson
[bodytext] => what picture do I keep? is it the back seat rider quiet in loud thought staring out the window waiting for the rain waiting for the noise of season the sun staring at her hair jealous of its music what picture do I keep? is it the dumb little girl screaming and laughing and being the little girl tripping over her dolls tipping and toeing wanting more than the cruel hand of that old boy, above her, blackening her white skin stabbing her beyond wound beyond tear what picture do I keep? is it that tight hospital floor following my mother to her mother to her last bed room to the table that held her last pillow that felt her last breath standing above her unsure if I wanted that machine keeping her her mother joking about her head shaven her hand was dead and I spoke to her in death I asked her to leave I asked her to rest holding that hand that was now that infant’s I asked her to leave for me if anything else what picture do I keep? of her house full of cousins and teachers she never knew who never knew her before her end, who never knew her before the bed, before her rest before her silence the listeners finally listened when she could no longer speak no longer shine her own hair she took wig and sewn lips to bed what picture do I keep? of that night the rain did come over fast roads and flat tires her arms holding that newborn her body covering that newborn as the car covered her she didn’t leave without that last act I wanted the baby dead I wanted her to cry and tell me she couldn’t hold onto it that she wanted that front seat that she didn’t want this rain after all just as I didn’t want her to leave what picture do I keep? plastic bouquets with no stone tomb her grass keeping growth but I can’t keep my mind on her picture on my shelf because I never knew her without bangs never knew her with smiles on paper only dolls and giggles and back seat gossip I know she wanted that hospital she needed the machine unplugged I know what she got for Christmas that year would have brought those giggles back //Ae April 1994 © 1994 [comments] => 0 [counter] => 164 [topic] => 39 [informant] => drewgreeno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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