I walk with myself a few steps at a time
open the drawers and pull out dresses
the colours of rainbow from years
that I remember only as a mist on the hill.
It took me this long to visit my wardrobe
to pick the clothes I dropped,
smear of lipstick glossy and
all wrong shades that hid my smile.
You called me across the garden
with golden shower of gooseberry leaves,
for lunch, now I smoke potatoes in coal
in the backyard of my memories.
I slipped to the room where
firewood is stored, whiffed the smell
left by you. I just wanted to lie naked
look at the moon through the glass slat.
Was that a mistake, I was a little girl then.
Now my eyes are like an endless night
that has never seen a moon. Still the breeze
carry pollen into the dark heart of my flower.
Rachel McKibbens asks me to consider these interesting questions before I write a poem about myself.
1. What took you so long?
2. What more could you have done?
3. What’s eating you? (Literally. Figuratively. Go bananas.)
4. What finds you no matter where you hide?
5. Where did you go when no one noticed?
6. What song or story or monument do your hands resemble? Your eyes? Mouth? Heart?
7. What is constantly at work?
8. What or who was nowhere near one of your greatest accomplishments?
9. What simple thing would you like to do today?
10. What simple thing did you wish for when you were small?
11. What is the meanest you could get?
12. What wish of someone else’s would you grant?
The poem is also to the prompt at Poetic Asides- write a profile poem. Yes a poem about me (all my poems are in a way), but heavily veiled.